Singin' In The Rain
by elektra30
Summary: Tina starts her first day at the Lima Autism Center in hope to help the adults there develop into independent, capable and creative individuals. When she's assigned the enigmatic Artie Abrams as her personal mentee, she sets out to understand him and unearth his talents. What she didn't count on was unearthing feelings for him. Glee AU.
1. Chapter 1

**This fic was written for gleebigbang's Round 3 on LJ. The accompanying art done by the very talented and gracious n_nanini can be found on my LJ masterpost for this story. You may choose to read the fic there as well.**

**Notes:** This fic is about **a fictitious autism center** which does not represent the work of many centers worldwide, but seeks more to give an insight into autism and its management. I volunteered at an autism school for half a year and have imbued many of my personal observations into this fic. Many of the cases here are modeled after real-life examples. However, I do not claim to be an expert in the area and welcome constructive feedback on anything that might be inaccurate. It's also unbeta-ed, so I apologize in advance for any errors. Still, hope you all enjoy (:

**Disclaimer:** The GLEE characters (and sly canon parallels) are the property of FOX, RIB and GLEE. The lyrics interspersed with text are from the musicals 'West Side Story' by Stephen Sondheim and 'Singin' In The Rain' by Arthur Freed. Also, as autism is a very wide spectrum, the behaviors mentioned may not be representative of the condition as a whole.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

"Hi, I'm Tina Cohen-Chang. I'm here to report for work."

Work, is at the Lima Autism Center, the best resource centre for autistic individuals in Lima, Ohio.

Or at least, that's what everyone says. Tina's convinced they are right and that it's where she will spend the most fulfilling years of her career. It's much more modern and well-equipped than the small special needs daycare center she worked at previously. She adores kids, but she's ready to step out of her comfort zone to work with the older ones, the ones who are still capable of contributing to society in their own little way.

Now, she's about to contribute in her own little way too.

The receptionist adjusts her glasses and stares up at the Asian girl with brown streaks in her hair.

"Miss Sylvester's expecting you. Door behind me."

Tina draws in a deep breath. _Time to make a good impression, Tina._

She raps on the door and upon hearing an assenting grunt, makes her way in, murmurs a "Good morning" and takes a seat. Sue Sylvester seems more interested in scribbling rather vehemently in a black book, however, so Tina has to clear her throat.

Sue looks up, a frown creasing across her face. "What do you want, Kimchi Lady?"

Good impression indeed. Her first day at work and she's already experiencing discrimination from the head herself.

Tina smiles faintly. "Hi, I'm Tina Cohen-Chang, the new behavioral therapist. I – err – guess I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go or what I'm supposed to do for today."

Sue snaps the book shut, startling her.

"Not just today, Panda Girl," says Sue, standing up and grabbing a few files from her shelf. "The rest of your miserable existence here."

Tina's eyes widens.

"Can't take a joke? Then don't make up yourself like a geisha next time." Sue smirks. "Follow me."

Tina trails after Sue, slightly befuddled by how the woman has managed to insult a good number of East Asian communities within less than a minute.

Sue stops, points to an empty desk in the office and dumps the files on the table.

"That will be yours," says Sue. "Mornings are administrative crap, so clear the stink out of them before your rotting incompetence kills everyone in the room."

Tina notices a young woman next to her cubicle and mouths, "Hi," but gets a rude stare in return. She is really beginning to regret applying for this job when Sue continues,

"Afternoons will comprise a two-hour session of assessing some of the individuals and working on some very basic skills. The following two hours, you will be assigned to a mentee, a special individual who requires more attention." Sue waves one of the files at her. "You're taking this one. It's all basics inside here, so if you want to get used to him, you'd better find out more on your own. It's part of your first year job assessment too."

Tina reaches for the file, but Sue slams it down instead and points at another file labelled 'REPORTS'.

"Then the last two hours of work will be writing the reports for your various cases. Is that understood?"

Tina fights the urge to stand at attention and salute; she just nods weakly.

"There'll be staff on night shift taking over, so..." Sue points all over Tina's desk. "Make sure you clear all that up before you leave."

"Night shift? Wait, what..." But Sue has already walked off.

Tina turns to her cubicle neighbor, who is resolutely facing the computer as she says,

"Great way to show off how much you studied your ass off about the organization you're applying to."

It hits Tina two seconds later. _Oh... there's a dormitory here. Of course there will be night staff._

"You can drop that deer caught in the headlights look, they won't get you to do night duty unless it's really serious," continues the girl, who is still not looking at her. "The autistic people who stay overnight are pretty independent."

Tina nods, but the girl can't see her anyway. "Thanks for that. Uhh... I'm Tina."

"Santana," comes the swift, but curt reply. "Worst decision you have made in your life."

Tina stares at her. "What?"

"To come here."

Tina sinks into her seat. "It sure is feeling like it at the moment."

"So why did you?" Santana's eyes remains trained on her computer screen as she types vigorously.

"The same reason as you..." Tina's gaze falls upon Santana's name tag on her desk. SANTANA LOPEZ, BEHAVIORAL THERAPIST. "I hope."

"The pay sucks, the people here are tough," says Santana.

"But it's a centre for those who have the capabilities to contribute," argues Tina. "The ones who have really low-functioning autism and need full-time guidance are in the Rainbow Center."

Santana snorts. "Rainbow. How stupid that they use a gay symbol for autistic people. People in power have no sense of differentiation. Well, whether you're more productive or not doesn't say anything about your behavior. More than half the people have behavioral issues of some kind and you'll spend more time finding a hair lotion for your bald spots than easing a good drop of that potential out of them."

As sucky as that sounds, Tina understands that. The adults tend to be less flexible compared to children especially if they had no therapy sessions before to guide them. It's harder to change their habits and routines. But that's why she came here – to challenge herself, to help them cross those obstacles and enable themselves to contribute to society.

"And I don't mean just the autistic people," says Santana. "The staff too. Specifically, that woman Neanderthal."

Tina wrinkles her nose. "Does she call you 'Hispanic'?"

To Tina's surprise, Santana laughs. "No, but I'm assuming she called you Asian. What did I tell you about people in power being unable to differentiate? It's like there's a gene deficiency with regards to that."

"I should be offended, but I actually believe you."

"No shit," says Santana, and she twirls away from the computer to look at Tina. "Look here, lady, just a little reality check first. I think racial discrimination is the least of your problems. There are only two of us as behavioral therapists – there's Emma Pillsbury, but she's as good as a ghost 'cos she's such a germaphobe that she hides in the office pooping out stupid assessment criteria sheets instead of really working with the people. The other few are psychologists who think they can read minds just by staring blankly into people's faces. So it falls to _us_ to try to get these people ready for life. And with the kind of crappy resources this place has?" She waves her hand about. "Lima's small, but really, it's because they don't give a damn. The old cook here who tries to teach home economics blows fire out of her mouth hotter than the stoves, it's no wonder nobody wants to learn cooking. If I were you, I'd be busy trying to tread the papers enough to get by, and once you chalk up two years' worth of basic credits, you can get the hell out of here and even beyond Lima."

Tina is having a hard time trying to process all of that, but disillusionment is fast settling in and she doesn't need that on her first day at work. She takes a deep breath again and concentrates on her desk. She puts the 'REPORTS' file away and takes the file beneath.

But she can't resist looking back at Santana, who is back to furious typing. "So why did you come here?"

"Same reason as you."

Tina still doesn't understand, but drops the matter. She opens the file before her and stares at the picture of the young man whom she has been assigned. The individuals are rotated amongst the psychologists and therapists depending on their progress, but this one looked like it was going to be for quite the long-term.

Bespectacled, wheelchair-bound, same age as her. Diagnosed with high-functioning autism. Stays full-time at the dormitory. Transferred from an orphanage a year ago...

She is barely a minute into dissecting his profile when Santana twirls over for a peek.

"Ooh."

"What's with the cryptic reaction?" Tina raises an eyebrow.

"Nothing. You're in for a ride, chica."

This is certainly one of the most bizarre days ever. And it isn't even ten o'clock yet.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Past lunch, Tina finds herself in a small whitewashed room with a small whiteboard, a couple of markers, a table littered with all kinds of assessment criteria forms (courtesy of Emma, she supposes) and visual cues. She places her own toolkit there, then puts on a bright smile as somebody knocks on the door.

"Come in!"

In walks – no, _struts_ – a girl in _sunglasses_, decked from head to toe in what is clearly designer wear (oh, what would Kurt _say_!) and lots of jewelry. She takes off her sunnies, flutters her eyes and sits down, looking expectantly at Tina.

"My name is Sugar Motta, I'm twenty-two this year. Anything important? I'm needed somewhere else. Very urgently," she adds emphatically.

Tina gets up to close the door, slightly amused. Then she looks back at Sugar. "Hi, Sugar. I'm the new therapist, Tina."

"Nice to meet you, but your eyes are too small. It makes it hard for me to make eye contact."

Tina can't help widening her eyes at that statement.

"That's better." Then Sugar seems to realize it wasn't very appropriate. Her eyes widen too – then dull into an unapologetic stare. "Sorry, Asperger's."

_Great sense of awareness_, thinks Tina, as she scribbles on the assessment sheet. "No problem. Mm... can you tell me what activities are you involved with in here, Sugar?"

Sugar frowns. "The psychologists ask me that all the time. It's boring. I work on fashion design, I'm great at it. You can check out the design shop for my works."

_They need to have a more efficient log system here so these poor people don't have to repeat themselves!_ thinks Tina once again. "Wow, I'll really have to check them out. Judging from what you're wearing, they must be good."

Instead of being flattered, Sugar just looks annoyed. "I just told you. I'm great at it."

It turns out that Sugar is highly articulate and talented, and quite ready to go out into the working world, but still lacks subtlety in her articulation. Tina doesn't want to be too harsh on her first try, but after a few rounds of conversation, Sugar gets bored, stands up and puts on her sunglasses. "I have to go. I need to finish my last batch of designs by the end of today and I can't afford to spend so much time here."

"Well, I just –" Tina began.

"Also?" Sugar tips the sunglasses down to her nose. "Not everybody here is stupid."

"I never –"

Sugar slams the door after her.

Tina sighs. Sugar is right; the verbal practices can make them seem rather dull when clearly some of them, like Sugar, are able to process more critically. She makes a mental note to visit the design shop later – the centre helps to sell autistic individuals' artworks, handicrafts and other designed materials there, and Tina thinks it's a brilliant idea.

The next person is Finn Hudson, whom Tina _adores _because he is such a gentle, innocent giant of a man and answers her questions slowly and politely. He owns an online repair shop in which people can request simple repairs for their items – they drop it off at the centre and he spends his time working on them. He clearly loves his work; his eyes shine when he talks about which nut and bolt goes which way. Tina knows nothing about such things, but she would gladly listen to him all day. He does not really maintain eye contact very well and his hands twitch on occasion, but his smile is warm and friendly. Finn thanks her for listening (what a gentleman!) and lumbers away.

The third individual proves challenging. Tina is very used to some autistic kids being touchy-feely, back at the daycare. She even likes that they hug and cling onto her because they are so sweet and innocent and it's their way of expressing gratitude and affection.

But when it is a twenty-eight year-old man, it's a different case.

When Jacob Ben Israel starts to caress her hand, she cannot help but jerk away and glare at him instinctively. She straightens out her expression at once, but Jacob looks hurt. She gently reminds him that touching is inappropriate, but very soon, his hand reaches out for her again, and she has to use visual cues to warn him. Unlike Sugar and Finn, Jacob needs what the Center terms a 'handler' (rather inappropriate name, Tina thinks), a guide of sorts who will ensure he goes about his daily routine. In Jacob's case, his family has hired a domestic worker trained as a handler to follow him around, but she doesn't interfere with the therapists' session and goes for a break instead.

Jacob is a writer, and Tina realizes that his greatest problem is that he hardly ever opens his mouth – when he does, he stutters and babbles. _No wonder he's so handsy_, she thinks and starts to think of ways to encourage his speech.

Working with adults is a bigger challenge than she thought, because their intellectual, physical and emotional capacities are of greater variance than that of children. She knows that her hardest task has yet to come – the individual she has been assigned for one-to-one therapy with. She has been told to broaden his interests, but from the file, she knows that there is more to him than just an obsession.

At 3.30 p.m., she finds her mentee seated in his wheelchair in Therapy Room No. 3, watching television very intently. He's classified as independent despite his disability, so unlike Jacob, he goes about his routine on his own. Most of the time, however, he is noted to be in front of a screen (which probably also explains the thick spectacles). Tina knows that his obsession is musical theatre and likes to critique it, but she is still surprised to see him speaking rather vehemently at every movement of the actors on screen.

"The Jets shouldn't be standing this way, it throws the whole symmetry off!"

"What's with the lighting here? Even if it is 1960, they must have had good bulbs!"

"That dress is just terrible! It clashes with her hair! What were they thinking? And she's singing "I Feel Pretty" with it, that's absolutely atrocious irony."

_He certainly is articulate_, thinks Tina.

He is completely oblivious to her presence, so she takes advantage of a pause in the sound to say,

"Hi, Arthur!"

But he doesn't respond.

Switching off the T.V. is not an option. Tina knows from experience that it is not just incredibly rude, but very startling and confusing to just tune off the obsession of an autistic individual. He might even go into a frenzy, and given some of his previous reactions listed in the file, she is fairly sure he will react that way. Giving him visual cues are unlikely to help, because his eyes are so trained on the TV. She needs to distract him using his other senses since they are likely to be very sensitive too.

If he likes musical theatre, he will be fairly sensitive to a change in sound. Normal speech didn't work, but she can't try something too overwhelming either.

Tina decides to wait till "One Hand, One Heart" comes on before she starts to sing a soft harmony.

The reaction is instant. Arthur Abrams switches off the T.V., spins around and glares at her.

"Who are you?" he demands.

"Tina," she offers, slightly stunned and thrilled at the same time to have gotten his attention. "I'm your new –"

"Where's Rachel?" He grits his teeth.

"Rachel?" Tina has no idea who that is. "Rachel is not here."

That seems like a bad statement to make, for his hands curl into fists. Tina knows that is a warning sign and raises her hands up in an 'It's okay' motion. She reinforces it by saying, "It's okay. I'm here to help you. It's okay."

"I want Rachel," he says, angrily. "Where is she?"

Tina thinks it's horrible of Sue and the previous therapist who wrote the file report not to have warned her that Arthur has another obsession. This makes calming him down terribly difficult.

"I don't know..."

"Go away!"

"Does Rachel sing too?" she blurts, and wonders if he will follow her train of thought.

He does, surprisingly.

"Yes," he says, his anger diminishing a little. "She does."

"Do I sing well?" Tina asks, hopefully.

He stares at her. Then he frowns. "I... yes. You can harmonize."

"Is it okay for me to harmonize?"

It takes a while, but eventually he says, "Yes."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says, automatically. A trained social reaction, but at least he's maintaining eye contact. That's good. She notices he has very bright blue eyes behind those thick glasses. _There's a lot of potential in there._

"So, Arthur..."

"I'm Artie," he says, the anger seeping back into his voice again. He wheels back to face the television.

_No wonder he didn't respond earlier._

He reaches for the remote control again, but Tina gets up and squats in front of him. "Okay, Artie. Shall we talk for a while? You may watch _West Side Story_ later." She makes sure not to use the words 'I promise', because it gets their hopes up.

"But I want to watch it now," he argues.

"It's the fighting scene, isn't it?"

"Yes, the rumble. The Jets and the Sharks. Riff dies..."

"So does Bernardo."

Artie looks at her contemplatively. "I've watched it eight hundred and twenty-two times. What about you?"

_Competitive streak_, she thinks amusedly. Then belatedly, _eight hundred and twenty-two times?_

"Five," she admits. "I guess I lose."

The edges of his lips quirk up slightly. "You lose."

It's these little things, the slightly positive reactions she eases out of negative beginnings, that really makes her love her job. It's why she chose to join the special education sector, because their positive reactions are the most honest and remind her that there is so much goodness and happiness in the world to look forward to.

She is able to guide him back to the table where she has her toolkit. He is still looking at the _West Side Story_ tape cover on his lap, so she carefully brings it up to the table so that his eye level is elevated.

"Where did Rachel go?" he asks, his voice now steadier.

Tina decides to go the less alarming route. "How did you get to know Rachel?"

"She was here before you."

_Oh._ _The previous therapist._ That is why the 'obsession' with Rachel isn't listed in the file. But why didn't anybody prepare him for Rachel's leave?

_Guess I have to play the bad guy then._

"Rachel has gone to work somewhere else," she replies, gently.

"I want to talk to her about Maria," he says, in an annoyed tone. "There's something important I need to tell her about Maria's singing. And only she sings like Maria."

Tina stares at her assessment sheets. She has to fill these in for her report later, but Artie doesn't look like he's interested in answering any questions today. Then she decides not to care and looks intently at Artie. "Do you sing like Tony?"

To her delight, his eyes light up. Then he shakes his head. "No."

"But you know how to sing a _West Side Story_ song?"

"Yes."

"Sing something for me."

"There's only 'Something's Coming' and 'Somewhere'," he argues. "Pick one."

Tina stifles a giggle. "'Something's Coming', please."

Artie has a rather nasally voice, but it's somehow very pleasing to the ears. His eyes become a little dreamy, like he's somewhere else as he sings. Tina knows this song is very challenging because it doesn't follow a simple rhythm, but Artie surprisingly nails it. He doesn't sing as clinically or didactically as some people do; he has the _feel _ of it, and she finds it extremely rare and talented, even. But when Artie finishes, the vibrancy of his performance seeps out of him and his shoulders sag. The edges of his lips droop while his eyebrows knot together.

"I'm tired," he announces. He makes to wheel away, but Tina puts out her hand. He stops.

"Do you know other musicals?" she asks, softly.

He frowns. "I only like _West Side Story_."

"But have you watched others?"

He doesn't reply. Tina tells him to wait for a while, and she goes to the disc collection by the side. Most of the collection are old films and musicals, but they are dusty. He certainly hasn't browsed through the rest.

She picks out one and holds it out to Artie.

"_Singin'... in... the... rain?_" he reads, then shakes his head. "Rachel spoke of it before. But I didn't want to watch it."

"It's a very good musical," says Tina, brightly.

"But I don't want to watch it!" Artie grips the tape on the table.

Tina figures she has to think of some proper visual procedural cues to coach Artie into accepting another musical, so for now, she nods and puts away _Singin' In The Rain_. She has to assess him anyway, so she presses 'play' on the remote. Artie's eyes light up again as he wheels himself to the exact spot in front of the television and begins to comment loudly on each of the movements. Tina tunes out most of his comments to focus on his physical movements and scribbles them down on her sheet. But towards the end, she does listen, and she is intrigued by how much he knows about musical and stage direction.

"The angle's too low for this number," he says, with a frown. "A headshot would have made it more exciting."

He sounds like an adult when critiquing, she thinks, but whines like a five-year-old when he's made to try something different. There is so much to learn, and so much to teach all at once.

Tina thinks this isn't too bad for her first day after all.

When the clock hits five-thirty, Artie's reaction is instant. He hits the 'stop' button, retrieves the tape and slots it back into the collection. Then he looks at Tina.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Artie."

She wonders if he remembers her name as he wheels himself out of the therapy room.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tina is making coffee in the pantry the next morning when she hears someone singing to himself in the office. Yesterday, she had to read so many things from Sue's files that she hadn't had time to go around introducing herself. She walks past Santana's cubicle and finds a young man with way too much gel in his dark hair going through light vocal runs while photocopying something. Nobody seems bothered, perhaps because he really can sing very well.

"Hi," says Tina, tentatively, and the man turns. Tina immediately finds him _very_ good-looking, and oh wow, his eyes actually _twinkle_ when he grins.

"Hi!" Twinkle Eyes says brightly. "Are you the new member of the psych team?"

"Yeah," says Tina, slightly flustered. "I'm Tina."

"Blaine," he says, holding out a hand. His handshake is soft and warm, and Tina can't help blushing. "I'm the music therapist."

"Oh!" Tina thinks of Artie immediately. "Wow. That's cool."

She pauses as Blaine gives a soft chuckle, then continues,

"Say, you know... I have a – uhh – mentee who is really musically inclined. I'm trying to think of ways to broaden his musical interests. Any suggestions?" she asks lightly.

Blaine's smile widens as he retrieves his papers from the photocopying machine. "Is it Artie? I've always thought I didn't really have to do much with him because he's already so talented."

"But surely being so obsessed with _one_ musical when you're talented has its cons," muses Tina. "I'm trying to introduce a new one to him, but I'm not sure how to do it without being too intrusive."

"I haven't met with Artie for years, 'cos I'm actually working with the kids at the other end of the compound," says Blaine. "Rachel has been trying to work on his other social aspects instead. I secretly think she enjoys his _West Side Story_ obsession because she gets to perform for him."

Tina has found out that they didn't spend a lot of time preparing Artie for Rachel's resignation because she left quite in a hurry, but the girl still remains quite an intriguing topic. Still, she leaves that for another day as Blaine continues, "I think you can try finding something more in common with _West Side Story_. Like you said, it's not too nice to throw in something completely out of the blue. You can try singing a _West Side Story_ song with a different feel or an element linked to another musical. Gradual introduction, you know?"

Tina breaks into a smile. "That's a brilliant idea. I'll see what I can do. Thanks so much, Blaine."

"Naw, don't be so formal," says Blaine, with a charming wink. "But you can treat me to lunch one day."

Tina is about to say, "Of course!" when Santana stands up and rolls her eyes. "Anderson, can you stop flirting with girls you can't afford to upkeep?"

It's a strange and possibly offensive statement to make when Blaine looks like he's fairly loaded given his stylish clothes and slicked-back hair, but Blaine merely laughs it off.

"Shut up, Santana," he says good-humouredly.

"And wipe that dopey look off your face, Cohen-Chang," says Santana, and she looks positively amused now. "His hormones only interpret that as constipation."

"Don't be so mean –" Tina begins, but then Blaine laughs again and says, "I guess I can always count on you to be a warning sign, Santana."

Tina stares at him. "Really?"

Blaine cocks his head to the side with an apologetic look.

Tina gasps as the heat rises up in her. "I'm so sorry!"

Santana snorts and sits back down. Blaine grins and shakes his head. "No offense taken, I – uhh – tend to give off wrong vibes. Hope you aren't too –"

"No, no, don't get me wrong," Tina says immediately. "I'm completely fine with it. One of my best friends is gay too."

Blaine arches an eyebrow. "Oh really? Don't know too many gay boys in Lima..." He winks again. "You'll have to introduce me to him one day."

Tina laughs. Blaine has a way of making people feel comfortable, and she's glad to have a colleague like him around.

"Definitely."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tina gets to meet a variety of individuals over the week.

In the staff room, the people (other than Sue) seem fairly nice. At least those that she's gotten to know so far. Emma is a sweet lady with bright eyes, but she seems a little too eager to go back into her office to work on another line of those assessment criteria forms. Tina wishes she can learn more about autism psychology through her, but never really gets much time with her. Blaine goes straight to the kids' section every morning, but makes it a point to accompany Tina and Santana out to lunch. There's Will, a speech therapist with a smooth smile. Holly, the art and design specialist with a sunny personality (and a fairly loose tongue). Ken, a bumbling man with a sour face who helps with all the technicalities, from computers to drills to bulbs. Outside, there's Shannon, the lunch lady with a big voice that scared the hell out of Tina the first day, but was found to have a big heart to match.

Then there's Mike, the sports therapist, who's young and athletic and handsome. When he winks at her, Tina is pretty sure she didn't get the orientation wrong this time.

The mentees at the center prove to be even more colorful in personalities and types. Tina is particularly amused by a young lady called Brittany, who is obsessed with drawing unicorns and rainbows. She has quite the artistic talent, but is lower-functioning on the autism scale compared to most. Her eyes dart about everywhere except for Tina and talks to herself on occasion, but seems to answer questions fine when directed with visual cues. To Tina's surprise, Brittany talks a lot about what she does with Santana (she is Santana's mentee! _Wow._) in terms of dancing, drawing and telling stories.

Her own mentee is far from being enthusiastic about her presence. Artie has never called her name once; he still rants about Rachel not being around every time she steps into Room No. 3. She has developed a set of visual cues to calm him down logically: "Rachel is no longer at Lima Autism Centre", "It is okay. Tina is now here to help.", "Tina likes _West Side Story_ too!"

The visual cues are what she uses with the kids, but when Artie frowns and gives her an annoyed look, she realizes that he is a lot higher-functioning on the spectrum than she expected from his report. The cues just silence him, and then he's back to reiterating the same statements while watching _West Side Story_. It's even phrased to the T, which means he's throwing his whole self into absorbing the whole show and that's really far too unhealthy.

She's tried to talk to him by commenting on his critiques, but they return less-than-favorable answers, mostly with a petulant, "I want Rachel. She _knows_."

Tina thinks she should meet Rachel one day.

-.-.-.-.-.-

One day, Artie gets really angry.

She didn't mean to make him so. He had decided not to watch _West Side Story_ for the day (which explains how the number of times he has watched the show hasn't actually snowballed to the thousands), but it only seemed to indicate that he was rather moody about something. She tried to talk to him and even reach out to initiate contact...

He is so angry that he reaches over and shoves her backwards. She hits her tailbone on the floor and winces.

She has to be strong, she has to be firm and calm, and show him that he needs to express his anger in an appropriate manner. Yet, when the tears spring to her eyes from the pain, she cannot help getting angry herself.

"You –" she begins, half-expecting that he will start shouting at her now that she's so obviously frustrated.

But when he doesn't say anything and wheels himself to face the wall in the corner, she realizes that she has hurt him.

She hadn't meant to touch his legs. She didn't realize he was still so sensitive about it. Yet, she should have known – he was very sensitive to touch as well and when he knew he was supposed to feel something but couldn't, it must have struck him as something _wrong_.

She tries to speak to him, but his eyes have such a hardness in them that she backs away. So she sits at the table and waits. She stares at the assessment sheets before her and sadly writes down comments in the box for 'Emotional Intensity'.

Artie is singing, very quietly. He's singing "Something's Coming", but because his voice is so soft, he sounds like he is hiccupping to the quick beats in the middle.

Tina finds herself singing the harmony to the song as she writes.

Artie's singing stops abruptly.

Tina looks up. He is still facing the wall.

Biting her lip, she lowers her head.

"Sing again?"

Her head shoots up again. Artie has turned around and is looking at her warily. But his lips are pressed together; he is waiting.

_He wants me to sing._

So she sings "Somewhere", light and clear. She makes sure to keep eye contact with him, and towards the end, she gets up and walks towards him.

When she finishes, she takes a bow, and he claps.

"That was lovely," he says, and Tina finds herself staring at him in pleasant surprise. "Sing again." He pauses. "Please."

Tina's not somebody who likes to show off. She's easily embarrassed when people make her do things in front of them, even if it's something that she likes, like singing. But with Artie, he seems to know exactly what he wants, and when he wants it, it's because he likes it. She can't help feeling thrilled by that.

So she sings again, but this time, she pulls an umbrella from her bag and opens it. Then she starts singing a more upbeat version of "Somewhere".

_It's okay, just think of yourself as Mary Poppins._

When she finishes, she's breathless from skipping around and smiling and singing all at once. Artie is sitting there staring at her thoughtfully.

"What do you think?" she asks, slightly hesitant now.

"That isn't the way to sing it," he says.

She shrugs. "Sometimes it's good to change things a little."

He shakes his head and looks annoyed. "I like Maria's version better."

Tina scrunches up her face. "So if I was a bit more emotional?"

"It's the umbrella. It isn't right."

"I want the umbrella." She can't help the petulance in her voice, and almost giggles. _Artie should know how he sounds like._

Artie frowns, but surprisingly relents. She sings again, this time more mellowed. He tells her not to sing too hard at the end of the stanzas – it's supposed to retract a little. He demonstrates, and she is impressed. Then he chastises her for dancing so lightly at a part heavy with emotion.

Towards the end of their session, he tells her the umbrella still has to go, but she merely winks and starts packing up her things. He's back to watching _West Side Story_ on the TV, saying the same old things. Previously, Tina thought he might have picked those up from somebody, or somewhere, but now she understands that he really knows what he's saying. That seems to uncoil one of the knots deep within her, and she can't help smiling as she watches him for the rest of the session.

At night, curled up on her couch, she spends the night watching Gene Kelly dance around in the rain with the umbrella and pretends to critique his dance moves.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Friday afternoons are mass game sessions where the psychologists and therapists 'play' with the mentees to simulate interactions. Tina is excited because she hasn't really seen everyone in a group setting yet. Santana warns her that it isn't as fun as it seems, but she gaily laughs it off.

That is, until she realizes that Artie has no interest in playing and is sitting in a corner watching the circle of people.

Tina gets up from beside Sugar (who is immediately campaigning for her favorite game of 'Murderer', which Santana argues is too complicated for Brittany), and goes towards Artie. Emma is standing by the side looking helplessly at him.

"I've tried," says Emma, wearily. "He just hates the crowd. He thinks they're going to push him off the chair."

Artie stiffens.

"That's why we seldom bring him out." Emma sighs. "Occasionally, there's the park, the supermarket. But he's always making so many unwarranted comments that we've cut down his outdoor activities."

_That isn't good._

"It's okay," says Tina. She looks at Artie. "Can I play with you then?"

He meets her gaze – still with that wary look he has every time she enters Room No. 3. "I don't want to play anything. This is stupid."

"At least get some fresh air?"

Tina takes hold of his chair handles, and when he doesn't protest, she wheels him outside.

The sun is bright, but the wind is cool. Artie scrunches up his face at the brightness. "Seriously? Those games that they play inside are really lame. We are supposed to be doing productive things, not playing."

_You sure are productive, young man._ "Mm," Tina moves to face him. "I don't know if this is lame, but I had fun playing with some friends of mine. It's a bit like magic."

Artie scoffs. "That's ridiculous, you don't look like a magician."

Tina smiles at him knowingly. "I only need another person to play along. Hold on."

Tina finds Blaine in the staff room trying to work out some scores for the kids during his later sessions. He looks at her in surprise when she enters. "Don't you have mass games?"

"Do you know how to play Black Magic?" she asks, grinning. "You look like the kind of guy who would know."

Blaine chuckles. "You're lucky that I do. What's up with that?"

Tina brings Blaine to Artie and tells him they are going to play Black Magic in which Tina will magically guess an object in their environment that Artie thinks of. Artie still thinks it's stupid, but he whispers the object to Blaine anyway, who proceeds to stroke his chin and say,

"Hmm... is it the plant over there?"

Artie is about to speak, but then Tina presses her hand on his as she grins. "No."

Artie stares at her. "How would you know? You don't have telepathic skills."

"Is it the noticeboard?" asks Blaine, nonchalantly tipping his head over to the pink board.

"No."

"This is strange," says Artie. "_You_ should be asking the questions while he answers them, since he knows the answer."

"But I know the answer!" Tina winks at him.

"So why don't you say it?"

"It takes time to read Blaine's mind," says Tina, in all seriousness.

"You _can't_," says Artie, empathically.

"Is it the poster over there?" Blaine points to a piece of black paper informing everyone of an upcoming workshop.

"No."

Artie frowns. "You don't know anything!"

"Is it the doll on the table there? I think that's Brittany's by the way," muses Blaine.

"Yes!" says Tina, shaking Artie's hand. "Am I right?"

Artie is gaping. Then he blinks. "You said you know the answer. You have to be right." Pause. "But how did you know?"

"I can read minds," Tina insists.

"No, that's not possible without any form of technology," argues Artie.

"That's the fun of the game, Artie," says Blaine. "You have to find out how she knows."

They play one more time – it only takes _one_ more time! – before Artie announces, "The object before the answer is black in color!"

Tina and Blaine's jaws drop.

"How did you guess so fast!" wails Tina. "It isn't supposed to be so easy."

"It's easy," says Artie.

"Well, at least you don't think it's lame," says Tina, under her breath. Then she says aloud, "You have to guess this one now!"

She is thankful that Blaine knows all these little trick games that she learnt back in junior high. Both of them keep Artie occupied for the whole of mass games period, and Artie guesses them pretty quickly. He gets a bit stuck with "Around The World" when Blaine accidentally says 'Indiana' for 'E' and nobody realizes till the solution is out and Artie expresses his annoyance. Still, he doesn't pout that much and seems genuinely interested.

When the bell rings, Blaine excuses himself while Tina bends down to take Artie's hand once again. "So? Was that better than mass games?"

"It's still silly."

Tina sticks out her bottom lip.

"But it's less crowded," Artie admits. His thumb presses down onto her knuckles, and she realizes she has been gripping his hand. Then to her utmost surprise, the sides of his lips quirk up into a small smile. "Thank you."

It's the first time she has seen him smile, and she can't help returning it with a wide grin. She ticks off her mental checklist as she takes the handles of his wheelchair.

"Tina?"

She stills. Another first – the first time he has said her name. She slowly moves in front of him and can't help staring. "Yes?"

He meets her gaze, but his lips are pressed tightly together.

Did she imagine it?

She gives him a faint smile, then goes back behind the chair to push him.

"You have soft hands."

His comment is so sudden and soft – because he is facing away from her – that Tina thinks that she is still imagining it. She wheels him back to the mass games room, and after Emma gives a debrief, he wheels himself out of the room.

Tina stares after him, still trying to process what he had said earlier. She is shaken out of her reverie when Emma calls her to help carry some boxes to a therapy room and she does, but she doesn't forget.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Over the next two weeks, Tina mostly focuses on developing conversational skills with Artie. Even though he is extremely articulate in his critiques and observations, he cannot express some of his emotions very well and uses physical movements instead. Just like how he had shoved Tina the other day.

She works on scenarios with him and suggests appropriate sentences for him to say. However, he finds this boring and gets sullen very quickly, just like Sugar.

"I know what I want to say. Why should I say what you want me to say?" he demands, folding his arms.

"Because what you say is very important, Artie. Words have meanings," says Tina. "If I tell you 'you are stupid', how would you feel?"

Artie's eyes flash in anger. "That's horrible and untrue."

"You know nothing about _Singin' In The Rain_. So you are stupid."

"That isn't a logical conclusion at all!" Artie grips his armrests.

"Okay. What if I tell you 'I think you can read more about the musical'?" asks Tina. She holds out a book that chronicles the making of the film _Singin' In The Rain._

Artie stares at the book, then back to her.

"It means I think you can understand more by reading this book. Just because you know less than me about _Singin' In The Rain_ doesn't make you stupid." Tina takes a deep breath as she watches Artie take that in. "So, just because someone knows less than you doesn't make them stupid. They might understanding something else better."

Artie still looks rather unconvinced, so Tina writes the word 'stupid' on a piece of paper and cancels it out. Then she shows it to him. "I am stupid. I don't know a lot about _West Side Story_. What can you tell me?"

"You're –" he pauses, glaring at Tina. Then he stares down at the book that Tina has put onto his lap. He flips through it, and Tina has to place the paper she's holding nearer to him to get his attention back.

"I can tell you more," says Artie, finally. "Because you know less."

Tina can't help smiling brightly. "That's it! But you can leave out the second part. If I told you 'you know less', you wouldn't like it either."

"It's stupid –" Artie begins, then he sees Tina's disapproving finger and makes an annoyed noise. "It's tiring trying to make people feel better!"

"You're right," says Tina. "But you want people to make _you_ feel better too, right?"

"They don't make me feel better by telling me they know more about other things," argues Artie.

He flips through the book again. This time, he gets lost in it, and Tina doesn't distract him. She scribbles on the assessment sheet and smiles to herself.

She also starts to observe what he likes and doesn't like. She notices that he wears his blue suspenders the most often and has more than one shade of blue checked shirt. So one day, she brings a big blue umbrella to the room.

Artie notices it immediately. He switches off the TV and stares at her as though she is stupid.

"It's not raining," he says.

Tina smiles. "I want to sing for you again."

"It's wrong to sing 'Somewhere' with that umbrella. I don't know why you like it," says Artie, huffily. "It just ruins the whole dynamic of the song. Rachel wouldn't do that."

The last bit stings, but Tina shakes it off. "If I sing a more upbeat song with it?"

When Artie doesn't respond, she proceeds to sing "America" and waves the umbrella around her. She hopes she doesn't look too ridiculous; she does have some dance background after all.

"America" is one of her favorite songs in _West Side Story_. For a while, she forgets that Artie is there and throws herself into singing and dancing. She totally lets loose and takes on the different girl and guy parts. When she is finished, Artie is still staring blankly at her, and she starts to feel very self-conscious.

"How was it?" she asks, softly.

His eyes trail to the umbrella, then he cocks his head to the side.

"Don't cover your face with the umbrella. It's a song filled with pride. The girls are proud to be in America, the guys are proud to be Puerto Rican."

Tina is amazed. This is the first time she has heard the song be associated with pride and she thinks it makes a whole lot of sense. She repeats the routine, but this time with a bright, proud smile on her face. She still holds the umbrella, but higher up and behind her.

"Well?" She raises an eyebrow.

"That's very good," says Artie.

Tina's cheeks are flushed from dancing, but it gets a lot hotter when Artie's comments sink in. "Really? You truly think that?"

"It's very nice, even with the umbrella," he concedes. "But you should watch Anita again. I think you should watch her and feel how she sings and dances. There's still a difference."

"It's okay to have some difference," begins Tina, but Artie scowls and insists, "Watch."

So she watches another round of _West Side Story_ and pays close attention to Anita during "America", but when the clock chimes again and Artie wheels out of the room, she wonders if she has really made progress with him.

This doubt lingers when she tries to give him tapes of other musicals in the next few sessions. She does it discreetly and he actually holds onto it and studies the synopses. But a short while later, he files the tapes back into the stack in the corner and continues watching his favorite musical. To make matters worse, he has been complaining about Rachel abandoning him of late.

"Does she hate me?" he demands. "Because I can't walk? Because I can't sing like she does? Tell me what she wants!"

And the worst bits are when he gets into a bad mood for some reason, glares at Tina and says, "You don't sing like her. I don't want to hear it."

Tina doesn't want to take it personally. She _can't_. She has been trained to keep her emotions in check and she does it well with every other individual she has worked with. For some reason, Artie's disapproval makes her sad; it reminds her of a teacher back in high school who told her that she had no talent whatsoever.

One day during lunch, Tina tells Blaine about what she has done so far with Artie, and Blaine makes an approving noise as he bites down on a cheeseburger.

"You know, people outside write them off so easily," says Blaine, in between bites. "They think the smartest ones are also those who memorize the periodic table or the entire New York Metro lines right to the distance between each station. But the artistic ones? Whoo. They really blow my mind. Not negating the abilities of the others, but I'm seriously moved in the artistic regard. There used to be a girl here who could re-compose scores of soundtracks for all the silent films that she liked. They sounded beautiful, but nobody cared. I sent in the scores to a friend's friend in Hollywood and nobody gave a shit about it because they thought the idea was ludicrous. Who the hell spends time penning scores to silent films that already had their own soundtracks to them, they said."

"Where is she now?" asks Tina.

"She's improved a lot and we don't really have the recording equipment and stuff for her here, so I referred her to a good ol' friend of mine in San Francisco who does short silent films. During the time she was here, we tried to coach her to work on stuff she had never seen before, by mixing up a new show in between her old ones. She didn't really like it, but somehow she got hooked on one and started asking me for more." Blaine smiles. "That was a good moment."

"Wow, so she's really out there in the world, isn't she?"

"That's what we're all here for," says Blaine. "Trying to develop their capabilities. I'm sowing the seeds in the kids, and you're adding water and fertilizer, and sculpting for the adults."

"You know, I think Artie has the potential to become a musical director."

Blaine raises his thick eyebrows. "You're not the first person who thinks that. Rachel said so too."

_There goes Rachel again._

"But he keeps saying the same old things," Blaine continues. "It's a little hard to ascertain if he really knows it or if he just downloaded it off some website or something..."

"No," says Tina, rather vehemently, and Blaine looks at her in surprise. "Trust me. That's because he's watching the same old thing. Like I told you just now, he critiqued my performance and he made a lot of sense. He said some stuff that he has never said before."

Blaine purses up his lips. "Hmm. That sounds good. One problem is, you need to work on Artie's socializing skills first."

Tina looks at him questioningly.

Blaine shrugs. "I don't doubt his ability to direct technically, but judging from mass games, he doesn't communicate very well with other people and _that _is the reason why he needs more special attention. He has so much potential but it can't be harnessed until he can open up, and besides Rachel, the others have tried and there hasn't been much result. As you know, a lot of artistic, autistic individuals express themselves through their art, but a director's slightly different; he needs to be able to express himself appropriately in order to gain people's respect."

"I know," says Tina, with a sigh. "I'm still trying to think of a way to make him open up during mass games."

"Easy does it, girl," says Blaine, grinning. "Not too much pressure."

"Do you think..." Tina pauses, then she narrows her eyes. "Do you think it's possible if we inspire him a little? Like if we give him a related project to work on. Do you think it might work?"

Blaine returns the questioning look, and Tina just smiles.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The bell rings, and it's time for the day staff to go home. The family members come and pick some of the mentees up; the rest have either gone back to their dormitories or are still working in the studios and workshops. Tina takes a peek into the tech workshop where Finn is diligently fixing a lamp and smiles faintly. At least somebody is trying his best.

On the contrary, Artie is simply not responding to her today. He even glared at her when she showed him a visual cue and she thinks he might even be _regressing_, which unsettles her more than anything. She has spent the last hour in the staff room agonizing over how to present her report without getting her head bitten off by Sue.

"Hey."

Tina jumps, then holds a hand to her chest as she laughs nervously. "Oh my God, don't do that."

Mike grins. "Sorry." He peers through the window. "That your mentee?"

"Oh, nah," says Tina. "Finn handles most things well on his own."

"Sorry, I don't really keep up to date with who's with the other therapists..." Mike scratches the back of his head. "Finn was with Rachel, so I thought you took over her and subsequently, took over his case."

Tina thinks for a bit, then says, "How long was Rachel here for?"

"A year? I didn't really talk much to her," says Mike.

_If Rachel was in charge of Finn for most of the time, that means she didn't take Artie for very long._

Tina's next thought is: _Did she leave because of him?_

"...your mentee now?" Mike's question tunes her back.

"Oh, uhh, Artie Abrams."

Mike arches an eyebrow. "Oh."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," says Mike, with a perfectly charming smile. "Say, do you want to catch a bite? I could do with some company at the grill. Cravings."

Tina cocks her head to the side, then smiles. "I'd love to."

At the grill, Tina finds that Mike is a great conversationalist for somebody who seems a little shy every time she passes him by in school. He makes her laugh, he is a complete gentleman by pulling out her seat and noticing when her water needs a refill, he laughs at her poorly-attempted jokes... she feels really comfortable spending time with him.

Now Mike is grinning a little when Tina regales the embarrassing moment when she thought Blaine was flirting with her.

"He does that," says Mike, sighing dramatically. "Rachel took it even worse, trust me. When she first came, we had a dinner and dance thingy, and they got a bit tipsy and you know..."

"No. Way."

"Yep. That was one epic makeout."

"Oh my God." Tina bursts into giggles. "Does the poor man get to attract boys at all?"

"Well, when he finds one as out and proud as he is, I'm sure he will," says Mike. "So apart from the gaffes in the staff room, any more blunders outside of it?"

"Oh..." Tina gives him a mock glare. Then she sobers a little. "Well. Yeah. I'm trying my best to help Artie progress a little from his musical obsession, but sometimes he... gets a little edgy."

"Tell me more about that boy," says Mike. "He's never in my therapy class. Santana tells me they never manage to convince him to come."

"Well, have you worked with paraplegics before?"

"No," admits Mike. "But I can always work on the dude's upper arms. Plus working the legs is supposed to help prevent dystrophy."

"He doesn't really like activity. There's a physiotherapist that comes to see him every now and then apparently, so I don't think dystrophy's a big worry. He needs mood therapy more than physical therapy though," says Tina, with a sigh. "And I'm supposed to provide that, but it's more difficult than I thought. He's responding less to my visual cues and gets irritated very easily. I keep telling myself that if I can handle the kids, I can handle the adults too, but..."

"Hey," says Mike, gently, and reaches for her hand. "Don't worry too much, okay?"

He pauses, then rubs his thumb over hers, sending tingles through her. "You have to tell yourself that you're trying your best. That's all that matters. Whatever else happens, it's not under your control anymore. We can only do so much as therapists and psychologists. You understand?"

Tina understands. She understands that he is telling her not to get emotionally invested. She has to distance herself and set limits for what she can accomplish with Artie.

But something tells her she's not at that limit yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

One day, Tina is surprised to see a young lady with shoulder-length blonde hair standing outside Room No. 3, peering into the window.

"Umm, excuse me..." Tina begins, and the lady turns to reveal a rather cold glare, startling her. "Are you – are you here to see Artie?"

"I had no idea Rachel Berry was a Korean girl," says the lady, in a clipped tone.

It has been _one month._ It's bad enough that Artie still uses that name against her every now and then, but it's really annoying that everyone else is still talking about Rachel Berry. Tina grits back a choice word and holds out a hand with a tight smile. "I'm Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie's behavioral therapist. Rachel left the center a month back."

"I see," says the lady, taking Tina's hand stiffly. "I'm Quinn Fabray, assistant director of Lima Central Orphanage. Artie was one of our kids after his accident and I haven't seen him since he transferred here. Sue's too busy to talk to me, so I just came over myself to see how he's been progressing."

She says the last word with a knowing look in her eyes and Tina feels a twinge of discomfort. Nevertheless, she invites the woman in, only to have Artie switch off the television immediately and roll backwards.

"Why are you here?" he demands, rather loudly.

Quinn frowns. "That's uncalled for, Artie." She turns to Tina. "Don't you all teach manners here? I thought that would be the first step to working on socializing skills."

Tina's face heats up. _Well, I'm sorry if he's not that sociable towards you._

"Tell her to go," says Artie, curtly.

_Gladly. _"Artie, she's here to pay a visit," says Tina, evenly. "Please have a proper talk with her."

"Oh, don't mollycoddle him," says Quinn, sharply. "He knows very well what he's doing. And what he's _not _doing."

"Don't tell me what to do," says Artie, his teeth gritted. "I don't want to listen."

"You never do anyway. But I'm not here to argue with you, Artie. I just want to –"

"I don't want to argue too," says Artie. "Now go."

He looks straight at Tina instead. "Tell her to go."

"I think –" But Tina is interrupted once again by Quinn, who glares at Artie and continues, "Don't keep pushing people away, Artie. Just because you've lost your family doesn't mean you have to lose other people too!"

Artie's eyes are suddenly blazing with rage. "GET OUT!"

Even though Artie has gotten angry on occasion, Tina has never really heard him yell so loud before. Afraid that Sue may come by, Tina opens the door and looks sternly at Quinn.

"Please," says Tina, her voice trembling, "please leave. I'll meet you in the next door room if you like, but I'd rather you not disturb him like this."

"You're new," says Quinn, coldly. "The way to handling him is not –"

"I think I can pick up tips from you later," Tina cuts in, her face now burning. "Now if you please."

Quinn leaves a lingering glare at Artie, then storms out. Tina stares back at Artie, who is shaking. She steps towards him, but receives a furious look and retreats.

Tina leaves the room and finds Quinn seated next door, idly toying with a few colored blocks on the table. When Quinn sees her, she smirks.

"Don't try so hard, young lady. People like him are only attention-seeking. He can help himself if he wants to, not because you make him."

"I'm not going to _make_ him," says Tina, highly annoyed now. "I'm going to encourage him to _want_ to help himself."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "All this step-by-step progress thing? It's been a couple of years since you all have been trying. Has it worked? No!"

"He's not going to respond well if you do things the hard way," says Tina, curtly. She shouldn't be so rude, but this woman really grates her nerves. Who does she think she is? Just because she knows Artie well doesn't give her the right to –

Something clicks in Tina.

"...yeah," Quinn is talking, "Whatever it is, you shouldn't be letting him have his way every single time 'cos he's just going to abuse it!"

"When... did Artie get sent to the orphanage?" Tina asks, more quietly now.

Quinn rolls her eyes again and turns her attention to the blocks on the table.

"When he was eight," she says. "He was still in shock after the car crash and didn't talk for a whole year."

Tina blinks. "Was he, you know, reclusive or something?"

Quinn pokes one of the colored blocks. "It wasn't even that. He just didn't respond to anything. We tried to give him books, TV shows, games... all kinds of people tried to talk to him. Nothing worked. He just sat in his wheelchair."

"What made him finally respond?"

"Can't you guess?" Quinn smirks, but it's not cruel. "We slotted in _West Side Story_ one night and the whole orphanage was brought to the hall to watch it." She stacks a red block above a blue one. "He just kept staring at the screen even when it was done and everybody was heading back to their beds."

Quinn pauses, then she looks at Tina. "He spoke after that. But all he spoke were angry words. He would punch his legs and scream about being a useless cripple. He would roll himself into the wall repeatedly. He pushed people away and the only thing that could calm him down was if somebody played _West Side Story_ for him. We had to give in to his obsession back then, but you know something?"

Quinn stands up and her gaze turns piercing. "You don't have to give in anymore. He shouldn't be stealing a yard every time we offer an inch. He's grown up now and we should stop treating him like a damned retard!"

Tina stares at Quinn in surprise. Then she says slowly, "I don't get it. Artie was at the orphanage for over ten years. You... you don't look much older than either of us. You weren't working there when he was eight, were you? How did you –" She pauses as Quinn's eyes flash. "You were once part of the orphanage too?"

Quinn purses up her lips.

"Sorry," says Tina, humbly. "I didn't mean to overstep."

She hesitates, then looks thoughtfully at Quinn. "And you know what? You're right. We shouldn't be treating him like a retard. But I'm _not_ treating him like one. I think he has great potential and it can be developed through harnessing that passion for musicals. It's just that we need to get him to embrace diversity. That would be progress. We can't just switch off the TV and force it the hard way, that won't work for him."

"All you psychologists," says Quinn, sneeringly. "Think you all know best because he's medically certified as autistic. That young man there isn't abnormal at all. He's just _broken_."

Tina lets the last word sink in.

"I've seen enough," says Quinn. "I wish you luck with him."

Tina walks her to the entrance of the center. Before Quinn steps out, Tina blurts,

"Then why did you come? If you thought we are all useless at dealing with him. He's so angry when he sees you. What did you hope to accomplish?"

Quinn doesn't speak for a while.

Then finally, she grips the gate and says, "I just hoped there would be a miracle, maybe. I saw something in him when I was there. Underneath that angry exterior is somebody good and kind. He _cares_. When they pronounced him autistic, I wanted to laugh. It was ridiculous. I thought autistic people didn't give a damn about anything, they were in their own world, they were _ill_. Artie wasn't anything like that, he was just angry and hurt that his loved ones had left him behind so he put his all into embracing music. It was like his cover."

Before Tina can say a word, Quinn continues, "He was just like me. My parents had left me behind; they didn't want me anymore. I was angry and I hated the world. But I broke out of the shell and I know that he can too."

"It's not so simple," says Tina, quietly. "I know it's not an illness, but technically, it's a lot harder for him to express himself and –"

"I know," says Quinn. "But honestly? He's not that different after all."

With that, she leaves Tina at the gate, staring after her in wonder.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Quinn's visit leaves Artie moody for the next couple of days. He doesn't watch _West Side Story_ at all and although he never really mentions Rachel anymore, he remains unresponsive. He stares into space, even though Tina is fairly sure he has heard every word she says and every note she sings. She tries to take out the umbrella again in hope that it might even elicit a snarky response of sorts, but he just fiddles with the tape cover in his hand.

"Artie," she says, feeling horribly embarrassed about the note of desperation in her voice. "I know you don't like to be reminded about the past, so you've got to focus on the present instead. Look at me."

But he doesn't. The clock strikes five-thirty and he wheels off.

Back in the office, Santana is waxing lyrical about how she's getting Brittany interested in newspapers, which doesn't help matters.

One night, as she is aggressively attacking a tub of ice cream in bed, Tina gets a call from her long-time best friend Mercedes, who tells her that both she and Kurt have gotten tickets for them all to a musical production by the Lima Young Theatre House the next night.

"Aw, that's amazing!" Tina beams as she clutches the phone. "Thank you guys! Just what I needed."

"We've gotten a fourth ticket as well," says Mercedes, and Tina can almost hear her grinning at the other end. "Bring that hot dude you went on a dinner date with."

"What –" Tina splutters. "It was just a friendly date! With a colleague!"

"Whatever, girl, you don't want the other ticket to go to waste, do you?"

Tina relents and texts Mike, and feels a tinge of disappointment when he replies that he has a family event to attend. But he is appropriately apologetic, and she shrugs off the feeling.

The next thing that comes to her mind is, _it's a musical_. And who appreciates musicals best?

"That's a stupid idea," says Santana, the next morning. "We all know what outdoor activities does to him. Stubbles is going to pelt the stage with the acid from his tongue and the whole place will spontaneously combust."

"Stubbles?" Tina stares at her.

"Short for –" Santana pauses. "Never mind. Bottom line is, Abrams doesn't pull off 'appreciative musical connoisseur' anymore than he can pull off those grandpa shirts and sweaters on him."

"The themes of that musical are similar to _West Side Story_," argues Tina. "I think he would really enjoy it. The Young Theatre House has put up pretty solid performances before."

"I think it's worth a try," says Blaine, coming by with a mug of hot coffee.

"Sue will never agree to it!" retorts Santana. "And unless that rickety chair of his turns out to be a stealthy Transformer who can actually transform him into Cinderfella, you're gonna dream on."

To Tina's surprise, Sue is pretty okay with the idea. Despite his previous record, she admits that Artie hasn't been out for a long while, and at least it's to watch something he would most likely enjoy. Furthermore, Tina's report suggests that Artie can handle himself (although she never added in the bit on Artie shoving her to the ground, and she feels a little guilty when Sue thinks everything looks fairly positive).

Along with peppering her agreement with off-hand remarks about Tina's clothes ("they look like they belong to a geometrically-uninclined and color-blind doll") and her appreciation for local musicals ("that theatre house should have been burnt down thirty years ago, when it committed the blasphemous act of supporting a creative actor to be a boring head of the whole damn world"), Sue insists that somebody else go along (a male, preferably) just in case there are physical issues involved (like the wheelchair).

The only person Tina can think of that could help and enjoy the show is Blaine, so he chirpily agrees to get a ticket and to pick her up at six in his family's SUV. He's all dapper in a long-sleeved shirt, waistcoat, bowtie and tailored pants, but he beats Tina to the style compliments by being most appreciative about her little black dress. He drives them to the LAC and helps Artie and his wheelchair into the backseat and boot respectively.

Artie is appropriately excited; his eyes have been wide ever since Tina invited him, and he's talking nineteen to the dozen about going to a staged musical. Considering that he hasn't been watching _West Side Story_ for almost a week, Tina thinks this is a huge achievement.

"It's right before your eyes!" Artie had exclaimed. "The quality's not grainy and I can see from the central perspective. That's perfect!"

Tina could only thank her lucky stars that their seats were fairly central.

"Is it okay that it's not – you know – _West Side Story_?" Blaine asks softly, as he pulls into the theatre parking lot.

Tina gives a quick glance to the backseat. Artie's wearing Blaine's old suit; not quite as dapper, but smart all the same. He shoots her a look that conveys anticipation, making her smile.

"He seemed okay about it," Tina whispers, as she turns to the front. "I asked him a lot of scenario questions earlier and he was very level-headed about it."

_Is he really that rigid after all? Does he really use music as a cover, like what Quinn said? Who is he...?_

"That's... wow, okay, that's great," says Blaine. "But just keep a lookout."

Tina stares at him in surprise, because he has been so encouraging about this trip so far. But Blaine is already out of the car and getting Artie's wheelchair out.

Mercedes and Kurt are waiting at the theatre entrance for them. Both have been very skeptical about bringing Artie, but when Tina assures them that she and Blaine have it all under control, they relent. Kurt in particular looks like all his doubts have dissipated when his gaze lands on Blaine. Tina and Mercedes exchange knowing grins as Kurt babbles his name when shaking hands with Blaine, whose impeccable manners are on full display.

Artie, on the other hand, is now impatient.

"It's starting soon," he says, crossly. "Let's go."

Artie gets a special seat where he can park his wheelchair at. He clutches at his armrests as people stream behind him.

"Why are there so many people?" he grumbles. "It's too loud!"

"It's okay, Artie," says Tina, patiently. Even though she's not feeling very patient because she has already schooled Artie about etiquette. She hopes the etiquette clicks on the moment the curtain draws open.

"I think he's pretty loud too," says Kurt, two seats away. But Artie can also hear him, and he scowls.

"Autistic people are very sensitive to sound," explains Blaine, who is seated in between Kurt and Tina. "Don't take it to heart."

Kurt doesn't get to respond, because the emcee immediately kicks off the show. When the lights dim, curtains rise and applause dies down, Tina is not looking at the stage but at Artie. He is on full intense focus mode.

She bites back a smile.

The lead actor walks out and does a monologue. As he speaks, a girl twirls out and begins to sing softly. Her voice is pleasant and lilting, but it doesn't really seem like she is in love with the man, when the story clearly means for her to be right from the start.

As Tina thinks this, Artie voices it.

"That's all wrong," he says. "There's no feeling."

The problem is that Artie voices it in his _normal_ voice, which is fairly loud in a setting where the only sounds are coming from two people on stage. He immediately gets shushed by a couple of people in front of him. Tina immediately puts her hand on him and frowns. He looks at her and shoots her back a similar look.

"Hold the note longer!" Artie continues to say.

Another round of shushing, along with a death-glare from an old man.

Tina shoots a desperate look at Blaine, who taps his lips with a finger. She looks back at Artie and whispers, "Artie, you need to lower your voice. It's not appropriate."

Artie glares at her sullenly, then folds his arms. He doesn't speak again – the rest of the first act goes smoothly – until the end when the actress becomes a little too melodramatic, and Artie fiercely proclaims,

"Feel it! That's not real, you need to feel it!"

"Artie!" gasps Tina, as a dozen heads turn. An usher is approaching them, but she holds her hand out to stop him in his tracks.

"Take him out!" says the woman in front of them, angrily. "He's spoiling the show!"

"But –" Tina begins, but Blaine whispers, "You need to talk to him, Tina."

"I don't want to leave!" Artie tells Tina, annoyed.

"Oh my God." Tina can hear Kurt whisper.

"Artie, let's just go out for a while..."

"It's not intermission!"

A man suddenly stands up and before Tina can react, he rounds the aisle and grabs hold of Artie's wheelchair, unlocks it and starts pushing him away.

"Let go!" Artie struggles to twist and shove the man off, but Tina is there first. She snatches the handles of Artie's wheelchair, glares at the angry man who is now spewing profanities at them, and wheels Artie out.

"Let go!" yells Artie, as she pushes him out to the lobby area. The front-of-house staff stare at him, but Tina waves them away and kneels before Artie, ready to chide him appropriately. She knows she looks angry, but she can't help it because she _is_. It's supposed to be a good night where he can learn more about another musical and that he can breathe some fresh air, but _no_, he has to get all critical and she _knew_ it was coming, so why did she even think of bringing him out –

"Tina!" Blaine calls out before Tina can say anything to Artie, who in a fit of anger, shoves her backwards.

She hisses as her back hits the ground. The bruise on her tailbone has just recovered, and now she's feeling that sharp pain again.

Blaine rushes to her, then looks back at Artie. Kind, gentle Blaine looks extremely angry now.

"Artie," he says, in a low, icy voice. "Hands to yourself!"

Artie blinks, then scowls as he folds his arms. "Why did you all push me out? It's very rude."

"Oh, so you know it's rude to come out during a play, but not rude to watch one?" Tina almost shouts as she blinks back her hot tears while Blaine helps her sit up.

"I'm giving them feedback!" Artie retorts. "Theater is a two-way thing, isn't it? They feed off the audience's reactions. I'm reacting honestly to what I think is wrong. What's wrong with that?"

The problem is that his logic was faulty only because of the social context, and that irks Tina more than anything. But before she can retort, it's Blaine who speaks first.

"Artie, you're being unreasonable, and you know it. You know that was inappropriate behavior." Tina stares at Blaine in surprise, but Blaine continues coldly, "You abused your right to be here and you have disappointed both Tina and I. We're sending you back."

"I want to watch the second half!" Artie glares at him, but Blaine gets up, puts one arm against Artie's chest to prevent him from falling off and starts pushing him away.

"Blaine..." Tina protests.

"Tina, stop it," says Blaine. "It's your first month working at the center, I can give you that much. But we are here to help them develop, not to indulge them. We gave him a privilege and he's abusing it."

With that, he wheels Artie away despite the latter struggling and yelling fruitlessly. Tina watches on in perplexity, while Kurt and Mercedes are running over; it's intermission, the people are starting to stream out, and they're here to get Tina out of the way. In fact, they all decide that it's best that they abandon the show and make sure Artie gets back to the center while Tina gets back home safely. Not to mention the fact that everybody has crowded around in over-dramatic whispers about the commotion.

"That was stupid." Kurt, of course, has to rub it in, once they are bundled up in his car. "You _knew_ that he's hyper-critical and hyper-sensitive, but _no_, you had to decide it was a great idea to –"

"Kurt," says Mercedes, warningly. "Drive and shut up."

"Drive to the center please," says Tina, in a small voice. "I need to make sure he's back there safely."

"Blaine is with him!" Kurt retorts, exasperatedly, but eventually, he gives in and drives to the center. Unfortunately for Tina, Kurt is right about everything that she does being a bad idea, for Sue is standing outside the office, looking black as thunder.

The torrent of spicy, cutting words hits Tina in the face as she clambers out of Kurt's car. She apologizes repeatedly as Sue yells about how irritating it is to be interrupted from her nighttime virtual WWF routine by an irate theater director who claims that the behavior of her staff and center participant had ruined their opening night. She barks about irresponsibility and lies by omission (Tina's report, of course) and various other things that make Kurt and Mercedes' jaws drop with the sheer amount of offensiveness.

But Tina isn't really concentrating on Sue. She makes a meek request to make sure Artie's in bed, and Sue throws her hands up. Tina takes it as her cue to press on; she makes her way to the dormitories, and the security guard shows her the way to Artie's room.

Blaine is there, helping Artie out of the wheelchair and into bed. Tina feels tears welling up in her eyes as she steps inside. Artie sees her and immediately scrambles for his blanket. Blaine looks at her sympathetically.

"He's tired," says Blaine, quietly. "But better. I guess there won't be any outdoor activities for him anytime soon though."

"May I?" She cocks her head to the side.

"Of course."

Blaine steps outside, while Tina goes to Artie's bedside. He's huddled under the covers, and she peels it away gently.

"Go away," he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I just wanted to say goodnight."

"But you're disappointed in me," he says, though it's less angry – more _resigned_.

"Yes," says Tina.

"Thank you for bringing me."

Tina stares at him in incredulity, though she knows better than to throw '_Thank you?_' with a full dose of sarcasm back to him, since it'll simply get lost on him. "Why are you saying that now?"

"Because I forgot to thank you for bringing me to the show."

"Okay," says Tina, even though she is struggling to keep calm. "You're welcome. But that's not why I'm disappointed in you and you know it."

Artie opens his eyes, and with the dull beam of moonlight threading through the door, the brilliant orbs of blue are captivating. "I didn't like the show."

"You wanted to keep watching it."

"Because you wanted me to."

Tina stares at him in surprise. Then it gives way to unhappiness. "That's not going to make me feel better. If you really wanted to do what I wanted, you wouldn't have been so rude. Now I'm _very _disappointed in you."

"I'm sorry for pushing you too. Two times."

The fact that he kept count makes her even more irrationally displeased despite his apology.

She gets up and tucks him under the covers properly, ending with a clipped, "Goodnight, Artie."

He doesn't say anything until she is about to close the door. Later that night, she replays his very soft 'Goodnight, Tina' in her head until she's fairly sure it was all a dream when she wakes up the next morning.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tina has to endure another torrent of Sue's Snarky Speeches and Santana's 'I-told-you-so' smirk throughout the next morning, so she's thankful that Blaine doesn't bring up last night's debacle during lunch. She monitors Sugar's progress on her upcoming bag line and tries to coach another individual to be more relaxed in the event of a routine break. It's all good for the day.

Until she approaches Room No. 3. She can feel the knot in her tightening as she knocks on the door.

Artie has learnt to respond to her knocks by switching off the T.V. and wheeling himself to the table. A week ago, he was still demanding that Rachel had to come back, but today he just folds his hands on his laps and stares at Tina. If it was any other person, Tina would have been able to pretend like nothing had happened. But as Artie's therapist, there is no way she can let yesterday's behavior pass. The strangest thing is that it seems like Artie had known what he was doing was wrong, yet he had thrown a tantrum anyway.

She frowns as she approaches the table.

"Are you still angry with me?" asks Artie, quietly.

Again, that urge to throw a sarcastic '_What do you think?_'.

"Yes," says Tina, although she sounds anything but.

He lowers his head. "I was just giving feedback. It's even worse in _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_, they throw things at people."

Tina stares curiously at him. "You know _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_?"

"Rachel made me watch a video of how it's staged."

Now Tina's eyebrow is quirked, her anger all forgotten. "And you watched it? I thought you don't like to watch anything else on T.V. other than _West Side Story_."

"I don't. I yelled at her."

_But you still watched it._ Tina's mind suddenly churns with all kinds of possibilities, including _The Making Of Singin' In The Rain_, if there was even such a video.

"There are some musicals where it's appropriate to give feedback, but there are some like yesterday's, where you can't," says Tina. "And I told you about etiquette."

"I know," says Artie, his head still hanging low. "But I didn't remember anything when I was watching."

"Also, this is their first time putting up this musical. They're not extremely professional, it's okay if they make mistakes."

"But it's the foundation of acting," argues Artie. "You need to feel what you're saying."

"Not everybody's great at that. If you think it's so easy, show me what 'sad' looks like."

He stared at her blankly.

Tina makes a 'sad' face at him, and he attempts to mimic her, but ends up with a horribly lopsided expression. Tina holds back her giggles watching him attempt to contort his face.

"Now you know it's hard?" Tina tries to maintain a straight face.

"But I'm not an actor!"

"Yes, you're like a director. But you have to know that your actors are human and can be tired, or upset, or just not really that great at their skill. It takes time, and you need to understand that not every musical will be perfect."

"None of them are," says Artie, with a frown.

"Exactly. So you need to have reasonable expectations. In this room, you can be critical all you want in front of a television screen, nobody will hear you but me. But in front of those actors? You need to think about how they feel."

"That's just troublesome," mutters Artie, but Tina can tell that he's understanding because he isn't making eye contact with her.

She spends the next few days working with him on how to give appropriate feedback to people and a more comprehensive understanding of etiquette at events such as theater shows. There are days when he just gets frustrated by all the words and images she presents to him, and spends half the time sulking in front of the T.V. Once, he lost his temper again and she had to fight hard not to cry. The worst was when he mentioned Rachel again, and she really, _nearly_ lost it.

"You're always making me think about what other people would think!" Artie had yelled. "Rachel told me to think for myself, to be myself! All of you are confusing me!"

_Just because you have a socially awkward condition doesn't give you the right to be a spoilt brat!_

She wishes she can just say that out loud. She's even fairly sure it might shut him up. But she doesn't need a black mark on her report should Sue Sylvester choose that opportune moment to walk by, so she tries hard to remain patient.

It just isn't easy.

Eventually, the mysterious Rachel proves too much for Tina, who decides to pay a visit. Santana has her contact, and it turns out that Rachel is now a performer with her husband at a Cleveland theater, performing sell-out shows.

_Not surprising._

When Tina pulls up at Rachel's house on a Saturday afternoon, she is appropriately tired from the drive and regrets not bringing somebody along with her to perk her up. Now she's going to look haggard and pathetic in front of the all-brilliant Rachel.

She presses the doorbell, only to be greeted with a startlingly cheerful voice,

"Welcome to the humble abode of the talented Broadway-to-be couple Rachel Berry and Jesse St. James! Should you like to be flattered with our company, please ring the bell one more time. If you are here to present your earnest feedback about our latest show, please..."

Tina pressed the bell again, clearly getting the snark behind that last sentence.

The door opens to reveal a girl with a red headband – _are those knee-high socks in flats?_ – all posed and poised.

"Can I help you?" The girl flashes a wide smile. "Are you here to offer me another lead role? Also, if you want to offer my husband one, I'll gladly work out the terms and conditions with you during his absence, we always –"

"Uhh, hi!" Tina rubs her hand together. "I'm Tina... I'm from the Lima Autism Center."

Rachel's wide beam dissipates almost immediately. "Oh! Is... is everything okay?"

"Yeah!" Tina smiles faintly. "Or at least, mostly. I'm the behavioral therapist who took over your mentee Artie Abrams."

Rachel breaks into a fond smile. "Oh, Artie. Hmm." Then she narrows her eyes. "Do you have a certification of sorts? I just need to be sure."

Tina is thankful that she has her working pass in her bag, so when Rachel identifies it, she flashes a more brilliant smile. "Oh, how rude of me to keep you standing out there, please come in!"

She unlocks the gate and ushers Tina into the hall, serving her with appropriate amounts of tea and biscuits, then sitting most poised before her. "I suppose Santana showed you the way here?"

"If tossing me a piece of paper with a hyperlink to the address instead of the address itself counts as help, then yes."

Rachel huffs. "Never could really stand working with her."

"She's okay after a while," says Tina, slightly amused by Rachel's irritated expression. She can already envision all the insults Santana would be throwing the way of Rachel's upturned nose. "So... you have been working as a theater performer all this while?"

"Yes, and I love it," says Rachel, brightly. "I mean, I belong on the Broadway stage, but you know, it's pretty easy when you're young to talk about dreams, but not so easy when you uh, actually have to work on it."

She says the last bit a little despondently, but two seconds later, she perks up and asks, "So what is it about Artie?"

"Well..." Tina tucks her hair behind her ear. "He's been asking for you ever since you left."

Rachel brings a hand up to her cheek and her eyes are wide. "Really? He misses me that much?"

"It's a little unhealthy, to be honest."

Rachel looks indignant, but Tina hastens to add, "It's hindering his progress because _I'm_ supposed to help him now, and he keeps saying how 'Rachel wouldn't have done this', 'Rachel said that'... and it's quite problematic because I think he has so much potential but he's just not listening."

When Rachel doesn't respond, Tina decides to try the 'bomb' method. "Did you... did you find him difficult or something? That's why you left?"

"Oh no! Definitely not. I just found my calling elsewhere, that's all."

Rachel folds her hands primly on her lap and shifts about uneasily. Tina raises an eyebrow, but waits patiently anyway.

Finally, Rachel says, "You know, the reason why I'm surprised he misses me is because he never seemed to be very close to me when I was his therapist. We did bond over musical theater, but most of our sessions were really bitching about the actors on _West Side Story_. I always did think I would have made a better Maria, but it seems a little disrespectful to Natalie Wood if I really articulated it."

Tina blinks. "Wait, what?"

Rachel shrugs. "He hardly ever called me by my name when I was there. I didn't really know how to help him because I thought his interest was fairly healthy, just a tad too obsessive, and Sue thought I wasn't doing my job. So I figured I had greener pastures elsewhere and I can only be thankful to Sue for helping me unearth that."

"Tad too obsessive?" Tina chuckles bitterly. "Artie would be such a great director if only he would be more open to other things... speaking of which," she looks curiously at Rachel, "he mentioned you showed him _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. He never likes to watch anything else."

"If it's from a different angle, something that's not so _produced_ like a film, he'll be interested," says Rachel. "He likes things from different perspectives."

That would explain why he had been interested in watching a staged musical live. "So it's _that_ specific? He can only watch one type of film, but anything to do with musicals that are not films, he'd go for it?"

"Something like that," says Rachel. "I hadn't really tested out everything. But yeah, he tends to be quite specific."

"Does he have any other interests?"

Rachel purses up her lips. "He really only spent his time watching musicals. If he wasn't, he would just be singing in a corner. Blaine tried giving him a guitar once and he was actually interested for a while... he actually learnt the chords and all. But later on, he got bored and complained that it hurt his fingers. So it's either more television after therapy or he just hides in his room. Nobody knows what really goes on in his room."

Tina has no idea either. The last time she was in it, it had been dark and she was more concerned about the person in the bed than anything else.

"To be honest, I can't really help you because I really didn't connect with Artie the way I did with..." Rachel trails off, her eyes locked on something in the distance.

_Who? _Tina wonders, but immediately, her next question is: _But then why would Artie keep calling for her then?_

She doesn't realize that she voiced that second question out loud until Rachel replies, "I think... that there is a possibility that Artie is using me as an excuse. He really likes his comfort zone and hates to be told otherwise. Like it confuses him; he's always been very straight-talking – knows what he wants, and wants to get it."

Tina, who has just picked up her tea, freezes for a moment. Artie's suspicious glance at her when she had first met him. His insistent calls for Rachel had also been when she wanted him to do a new activity or answer a new question. Finally, Blaine's words about Artie knowing full well what wrong he had done at the theater.

_Artie Abrams. What are you up to?_

Rachel looks at her intently. "You really care for him, don't you? That you drove all the way here just to find out more about him."

Tina smiles. "I really think he can be a very capable young man. I just want to help him, that's all."

Rachel still has a funny look on her face as she says slowly, "Just. Be careful though. I know what it's like to want something so badly for a mentee and try to do my best for him, but in the end, sometimes they can't achieve it and we feel like we're so responsible. And then we try to pay even more attention to them and..." She trails off once again, face twisted in discomfort.

"I think your message is not to get too attached to them?" Tina arches an eyebrow. "Don't worry, I know."

Rachel mutters something under her breath, then smiles. "Okay then. Good for you. Would you like some more tea?"

"No, I'm good," says Tina. "And Rachel? Thanks so much for your help."

When Tina is driving back home, she can't help feeling a little more buoyant to know that there can be a way to deal with Artie. She needs to make him feel comfortable and secure about changes and different opinions, so that he won't keep using Rachel and old times as a defense for not trying. The more she thinks about it, the happier she gets. She realizes she's singing the chorus of "America" and almost laughs out loud. But when she's back on the roads of Lima, she knows that her parents will ask her at dinner if it was worth sacrificing a day of her weekend making the trip to Cleveland for this boy. They had been skeptical about her taking on such a tough and thankless job, although they did not make a huge fuss about it.

A week ago, she had been telling them happily that Artie was responding better to her lesson plans and was rambling non-stop about the pros and cons of bringing him to the local theater. When she had come home dejected that night of Artie's failed etiquette, her mother had thankfully not said anything along the lines of 'I told you so'. Instead, she had said,

"When you signed up for this, you knew that not everything would go smoothly. So you have to hang in there. But if it becomes too much for you to take, you have to know when to let go."

Tina had protested immediately, but then her mother continued, "You're a sensible girl, Tina. We trust you."

The word 'sensible' replays in her mind, along with Rachel's words and then Mike's. And then Blaine's sharp words about not indulging Artie at the play. She starts to wonder if she's really caring a bit too much.

Then she decides that it's just _one day_ and it's really for the better, and now she's singing "Tonight" like a cheerful lark and briefly wonders if Artie will like this re-interpretation.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

Tina requests permission to skip morning duty one day so that she can monitor Artie's daily routine. He's an early riser (according to him), but he only comes out of his room at ten in the morning to the canteen where he has his breakfast (he's not picky, which is great). Tina sits in the corner sipping a cup of coffee and pretends to be more invested in her files, though she suspects he knows she's there because he's angled his chair away from her.

When he's done, he goes back in the direction of the dorms. In one of the therapy rooms along the way, a thirty-two year-old man with low-functioning autism, Howard Bamboo, is switching channels obsessively. His handler is a haggard-looking man, a part-timer hired by the Center, and he's sitting in a corner playing with his iPhone. It's a scenario that replays every single day and _every single hour _until Howard's caretaker comes to pick him up in the afternoon, according to Santana. Tina has seen it for herself a few times. Artie stops to survey the scene a little, then wheels past.

Tina, however, notices that Howard's thumbs are getting red from pressing the remote buttons so frequently. The handler remains obliviously lost in his smartphone. Taking a quick glance at Artie, who is moving away, she takes a deep breath and knocks on the door lightly. Howard doesn't flinch, but the handler looks up, whiskers twitching and irritation lacing his features.

"What do you want?" he calls out, not moving an inch himself.

"Could you step outside for a while?" Tina asks, politely.

Whiskers grunts, but complies anyway. Tina notes in the corner of her eye that Artie has halted.

"What do you want?" Whiskers repeats, gruffly. "I've got stuff to do."

"If by stuff, you mean Angry Birds," says Tina, pointing to the lit phone screen in his hands, which he quickly shoves back into his pocket, "I can help make sure you won't be so bogged down by it in future."

"Screw you," snarled Whiskers. "What's your problem? What business do you have bein' all high-and-mighty here?"

Tina drops all pretense and glares at him. "Howard's extremely good with organizing things. He's been trained by Ken to help sort Finn's repaired items into packages, he's pretty good at helping us staff organize note piles and files, but lately, he's just been sitting around surfing the T.V.! And you're just sitting there letting him do it. Don't you think you're the one with a problem?"

Whiskers snorts, and his long whiskers flutter. "Excuse me? He likes it. Give him a break or somethin', lady, not everybody has to be workaholics like you crazy people. I'm helpin' him feel better."

Tina stares at him incredulously. "You're _corrupting_ him! He's supposed to be working on being independent and all, and you're just letting him – _stagnate_!"

"Well, look who's all prim and proper," says Whiskers, cockily. "Well, isn't the skills part mostly you psychos' job anyway? I'm just here to make sure he doesn't go all Godzilla on you."

"That's offensive!" Tina retorts. "Handlers are supposed to support our recommendations by making sure that the individuals actually work on their skills for most of the time and to help develop it! It's like a tutor with a kid; the parental and familial support is so important – it takes two hands to clap!"

"Well before you go all Amazonian woman on me, maybe you should do some self-reflection," says Whiskers, coldly. "I know you're the new psycho, and you be takin' care of that four-eyed son there," he jerks his head in Artie's direction, "but you ain't no better. He's pretty much stagnant himself, staring at the T.V. and yakking his head off!"

His words are so horrible and true and stinging – Tina's ears are ringing with them and she can feel the heat in her face. But before she can say anything, suddenly Artie is next to her and looking up at Whiskers.

"That's horrible of you. Tina was trying to help Howard. And I am not stagnant. I can think for myself," he says. His voice is calm and collected, but his eyes seem to suggest otherwise.

"Artie, let's go," whispers Tina, now a little upset that he's involved, but Artie doesn't look at her. The man glares at him and snorts.

"So your fella can talk now, can he? Congratulations, lady. Some great psycho you are."

"She's a _therapist_, who deals with behavioral _psychology_," says Artie, firmly. "_You_, on the other hand, sound like a psycho."

Tina has barely registered what he said when he wheels off, and Whiskers gapes after him. She throws Whiskers a final glare, then jogs up to Artie. When they reach the entrance of the dorms, Tina rounds his chair and stops him.

"Thank you," she says, awkwardly. Then she can't help grinning slightly. She won't tell him how she thought his answer was _brilliant_, because he really shouldn't be saying such things. But she's proud of him all the same.

Artie doesn't look at her; he's busy fiddling with his fingers. "It wasn't right. You were trying to help Howard."

"Let's hope he understands," says Tina, wryly.

"I could say it again," Artie offers, and he sounds so serious that Tina has to giggle. What he says next wipes the grin off her face though.

"I didn't like how he called me stagnant. I'm not a pot of water left out in the open."

"Artie, you're not –"

Tina gets frustrated as he wheels off once again before she can continue. People really need to let her finish her sentences.

-.-.-.-.-.-

During therapy session, Artie's mind seems somewhere else. Tina is trying to get him to listen to her make statements for a conversation about opinions, but his eyes keep wandering and it's clear he's zoning out. Annoyed, she places the clipboard in front of him and directs his eyes back with a pen.

"I don't have to do this," she says, testily. "You're just not trying."

Artie flashes her an annoyed look. "I am."

Tina folds her arms. "Okay, you know what, I really don't care that you're autistic. You're behaving like a seven-year-old kid who wants to be belligerent." She pauses. "Yes, _belligerent_, I'm sure you know that word because I'm told you have a vast vocabulary. I'm not going to treat you like a child and you shouldn't want to be." She taps the pen loudly on the table. "A young man respects people around him and_listens_ to them."

Artie scowls deeply as he takes in all that Tina has said. She has purposely made her diction extra crisp so that it sinks in perfectly. Then finally, he mutters, "Okay."

"Good," says Tina, as she pushes the clipboard nearer to him. "Let's look at this together then."

Artie stares hard at the clipboard. Then he flips a few pages.

"Hey, I only need you to focus on the first page," protests Tina, the annoyance in her rising again.

He stops flipping at a page and keeps staring.

"Artie!"

"It's a hundred and forty-seven dollars, eighty cents."

"What?"

He turns the clipboard to face her. He has flipped to a page where she had been calculating her expenditure for the month and had been doing so halfway. Then he jabs a finger at the bottom of the sum. "A hundred and forty-seven dollars, eighty cents."

Tina stares at him. Then she writes the number down slowly, flips to a new page and scribbles a long list of numbers before showing it to Artie. Five seconds later, he says,

"Three hundred and eighty-two."

Tina takes at least eight times longer to make sure she's got the right sum. Then she looks up at Artie in wonder. "Artie, you're a math genius."

He stares at her blankly. "I am?"

The previous plan of practicing conversations is shelved immediately as Tina gives him various sums to calculate. She finds out that he knows addition, subtraction, multiplication, division and manages decimals, but doesn't comprehend percentages, fractions and anything higher level. But he's a quick learner, and over the week, Tina teaches him those things which he picks up as fast as he solves questions. When they progress to using bills from the finance department to practice, Tina manages to teach him profit-and-loss as well, and he is extremely attentive when she speaks. She cannot help smiling when she sees how earnest he looks absorbing everything she is saying.

_Finally._ Finally she has found something else he can be good in and interested in.

When he is working on the sums, he seems a lot more calm and collected; for a moment, he looks like any other hardworking young man trying to adding up his home bills. Tina wishes he can be like that all the time, quiet and diligent.

But there is a slight problem: he won't take up math on his own accord. Most days, she'll still find him in front of the television screen watching _West Side Story_ and making loud, obnoxious (yes, they _are_) comments; when she asks him to do calculations before she comes, he refuses. Eventually, he shoves the papers aside on the table and folds his arms, saying,

"That's enough. I'm tired."

Still, his progress is enough for Tina to wax lyrical about it in the office, at lunch, after work –

"...been absolutely amazing. The way he just scans through the numbers and comes out with a sum at the end; it's even better than Excel, I swear, and he –"

"Do those oversized, dated specs he wears have some kinda voodoo spell that's charmin' your skirt off you, lady?" Santana shoots her a deadpan look as she swivels around from her computer.

"_What?_" Tina gasps.

"Because he's like the bee that's buzzin' around your booty, that's what it is."

"The correct term is a _bonnet_, and no, that's not what's happening!" Tina is affronted. "Fine, if you're so bored about Artie, tell me how Brittany's doing."

"The usual," says Santana, lazily.

Then she sits up straight in her chair. "No, wait. Did I tell you that she's actually started drawing people? I mean, all this while she's been focused on unicorns and birds – storks, to be specific – and cats, but she's actually being drawing girls of late. And they're really good... hold on."

Santana bends under her desk to rummage through some files. As she rummages, she continues to gush, "And her dancing! Oh my God, Zach was telling me how she's picked up this new dance style and is getting the postures _perfectly_. I mean, have you ever seen – oh wait, yeah! Look! Here it is!"

She triumphantly holds open a file with Brittany's drawing of a girl with black hair and brown skin, with a bright red smile.

Tina snorts. "Pot calling the kettle black."

And she bursts out laughing as Santana's face grows red.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tina gives Artie a break with regards to his mathematical skills, so he's glued to the television screen once again. She does notice he's saying less things, however. Maybe he does get tired of repeating himself.

When she bumps into Mike outside the staff room, he is staring at her amusedly.

"Good day?" he asks, with a chuckle.

"Any day that doesn't involve a tantrum is always good, don't you think?" Tina smiles brightly.

"So..." Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets. "I was wondering if... you were free for dinner?"

It has happened a few times since their first outing to Breadstix. Tina can't help feeling heat in her cheeks as she flashes Mike an agreeable smile, and his genuinely delighted expression adds to the happiness of the day. When Blaine hints at it with a '_So, Mike's a nice dude eh? Real friendly'_ and Santana just drops the bomb by going, _'Okay, so which base is he at now? Spill the beans!'_ (and Tina splutters), she can't help feeling a fluttery feeling in her tummy.

Maybe this is the moment. The moment where past all the silly, flirting high school and college romances, she is ready for her first proper relationship.

Just maybe.

_I'll wait and see._

-.-.-.-.-.-

Blaine accompanies Tina to her session with Artie the next day, because he wants to see for himself Artie's capabilities for the proposed musical. Artie gets a bit edgy seeing Blaine, and starts to wheel back and forth to express his displeasure at another person being in the room. Eventually, he does calm down when Blaine and Tina start to do a soft harmonized duet of "Tonight".

"Have I done something wrong?" asks Artie, warily, once they finish singing.

Blaine smiles as he takes a seat alongside Tina. "No. In fact, you're doing something right. Tina tells me you've had a lot of ideas for _West Side Story._ We thought you might like to help contribute some ideas for another musical."

"Don't change the video," says Artie, automatically.

"A _live_ one, Artie," says Tina, brightly. "One where you can have the central perspective and _direct_ the action."

When Artie stares at her blankly, she realizes she's not being direct enough. "We want you to direct a live musical."

Artie's eyes widen. "You want me to direct a musical?"

Blaine nods. "For the script, I can handle it along with Nessie, who teaches the kids English. I'm getting the girl who's really good at music composition – her name's Zoe – to come back and help out. Then Emma was telling me there's another guy at our center who's very good at poetry – Matt – and he can help with lyrics. As for acting, we can hold open auditions for anybody with special needs, not just autistic people, in Lima. Or even if people from Cincinnati, Cleveland and Westerville want to come down, I think we'll be happy to have them."

That seems a lot for Artie to digest. Tina watches in fascination as he takes it all in.

"An original musical?" he says, clutching at the remote control.

"Yes," says Blaine.

"Not _West Side Story_?" Artie frowns a little.

"To be a good director, you have to show people you can do something different," says Tina, intently.

When Artie looks thoughtful instead of offended, Tina moves closer and takes his hand to say, "But you must promise me, Artie, that you will work hard at your lessons for manners and conversation. If you want to be a good director, it's very important to say appropriate things so that people understand what you want and won't get upset with you."

Artie sticks out his lower lip as his gaze diverts. Tina draws him back by squeezing his hand again. "Artie, are you okay?"

"I'm not a good director." he asks, quietly.

Tina and Blaine exchange surprised looks.

"Why do you say that?" asks Tina.

"Every time I talk about what is good and what is bad, it's a bad thing," says Artie. "You all always try to make me do something else. I have to go for lessons on manners. Nobody likes when I'm directing."

Tina looks at Blaine, who nods and takes his leave. Then she looks back at Artie.

"That's why you have to practice," says Tina, kindly. "You give excellent comments – you really have a good eye for detail and style, it's a hallmark of a great director. It's not a degrading thing to learn about manners. You just need to know when it is appropriate to say something and how to present it appropriately too."

"That's so much work." He switches to grumbling.

"Now," Tina's voice turns a little stern, "I know you don't like doing things that you are uncomfortable with. You're always running away from it."

Artie avoids looking at her once again.

"The musical may not sound as interesting as _West Side Story_ to you. But that will be your job – to make it interesting and exciting. To make it what you think is the best musical ever. Whatever you don't like, you will have to communicate with the person in charge and give proper feedback. Blaine and I will help you through this."

Tina tries to say everything slowly and with emphasis, so that he doesn't get too lost in the sea of words. She waits patiently until his attention is back on her, before she says softly,

"Tell me you can do it, Artie. Tell me you will work hard to be a good director."

Artie's gaze on her is intense. Then he finally murmurs, "I will."

Tina clasps his hand and beams brightly. Then he pulls away to wheel himself to the table, sitting up ramrod straight.

"So where's the crew?" he says, a little stiffly. "We should get started."

He does pay a lot more attention and even _asks questions_ when Tina is guiding him through conversation. The truth is, it _really is hard work _trying to help him memorize social cues. Tina was shocked to realize how much effort the autistic individual had to put in when she was undertaking her special educator course; they were spending more time trying to analyze people's body languages, expressions and words to the T so that they could respond appropriately, and it seemed so stressful. Worse still, some of them had to contend with all kinds of disturbances in a noisy setting, like a bar or in school, and it would just be like alarm bells literally ringing in their heads.

So she really appreciates that Artie is trying hard. That he is repeating after her with his eyebrows furrowed and jaw set. Once again, he does get bored, but Tina whips out math sheets to divert his attention for a bit. To her surprise, he ignores the long list of numbers and goes straight to the problem sums where he has to read and analyze. He churns out a profit-and-loss table for her by hand, and Tina secretly thinks Artie can outdo Microsoft Excel.

At the end of the week, she gets a brainwave just by staring at the hand-drawn table.

"So," she says, as she lays out a template for profit-and-loss in front of Artie. "Profits are benefits, and losses are problems. Businesses want to maximize profits, so they will try to keep the good work up, but –"

" – they will try to minimize losses by fixing the problems," finishes Artie.

Tina grins. "Yes, that's absolutely right."

She swears he's smirking and wonders if he picked that up from her.

"It's like musical theatre, isn't it?" she asks.

"What?" Artie stares at her like she's crazy. She's been getting that stare pretty often; she's used to it already.

"Well, in a musical, you want to make sure that the good things are repeated, and the bad ones are improved on. You're always talking about the good and bad things in _West Side Story_, right?"

"Like how Tony needs to work his baritone more and Anita needs to lift her head higher?"

"Exactly. Except those are mostly losses, so you need to find something good too. There must be something good." Tina pauses. "Like how you like the emotion of the performances. But be specific about it. What is it that it's good, and what is it that's bad. Then when you're done..."

She flips the template to reveal another table. "You're going to write down what you think can be done for the losses. What can be improved."

"That's a lot of writing," says Artie, sullenly.

"Yes, Artie, but let's just try it," says Tina. "I think you will like it."

"I won't," he says, automatically, but Tina ignores him and wheels him to the front of the T.V. screen. He reaches for the remote, but then Tina stops him.

"What?" he demands.

"Wait..." Tina feels another idea growing in her. "You've watched the show so many times. You can write down the good and bad points of it without having to watch it again."

"But I want to," Artie says, firmly.

"You know it," repeats Tina. "Show me that you know _West Side Story_."

This conversation goes back-and-forth for a while before Artie finally relents with a huff and begins to write. As predicted, he is overloading the 'losses' side of the table far too quickly. Tina points to the 'profit' column as often as possible, and occasionally, he pushes the pen against his lip and then begins to write in that column.

When he moves on to Act Two, Tina no longer has to prompt him. He's thinking hard, with his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed up again. _He really looks like a director hard at work trying to organize his thoughts,_ thinks Tina, and she can't help smiling.

Finally, when he's done, Tina asks him to present the table to her. To her utmost amazement, he starts to demonstrate the little gestures and details that she's taught him in conversational skills. He leans forward a little, like how she had suggested to him to convey a connection to his listening audience. Then he launches into a very detailed, step-by-step rendering of the good points, followed by the bad ones that he has picked out from watching _West Side Story_. He moves on swiftly to the next page on points for improvement. Tina had written the words 'I FEEL THAT IT'S GOOD IF...' and 'I THINK THAT IT MIGHT BE BETTER IF...'

"I had written that there was not enough tension between Officer Krupke and the boys. There needed to be a push-and-pull feel, so you should...," he frowns, steals a quick glance at Tina, then continues, "I think that it might be better if... it could have been accentuated with a wider camera lens to capture the literal back-and-forth motion, so you can see the effects of how –"

Tina feels like she's sitting in a business presentation on the pros and cons of a product – and an _interesting_ pitch to boot. This completely floors her, because Artie has always been so sharp with his words that he often comes across as condescending. But when he's looking at what he has written down, his tone of voice has transformed considerably. He sounds just as confident, but more mellow and firm rather than rude and arrogant. To hear him speak like that is so overwhelming that she has to clutch at the edge of her seat.

At the end of his presentation, she gets out of her chair and claps frantically.

Artie blinks rapidly, then adjusts his spectacles. "It was good?"

"Artie," says Tina, breathlessly. "That was – _amazing_. As an actress or a stage manager, or just any crew member, I would listen to all your points of improvement and try to work from there. You make it sound so convincing because you truly believe it can do good."

His eyes crinkle at the edges.

She pauses. "How do you feel? Reading out your words? Does it feel different from just speaking?"

Artie blinks again, then he looks back at the table. "It makes sense. And I want you to see that it makes sense."

"And when you speak without reading?" Tina proceeds to ask him about a particular scene in _West Side Story_ without referring to the table, and his sharp retort about the movement in that scene cuts through once again.

"How do you feel about that?" asks Tina.

Artie frowns. "It makes sense. But you know it makes sense, right?"

Tina realizes then, that Artie can empathize more with people having to read for themselves than when they watch for themselves. When he sees words, he feels like he has to explain it for other people. But when they can see what he sees in terms of visual movement and objects, he doesn't see why they don't get it, and hence he gets frustrated. This significant finding makes her so relieved because any corner of Artie's brain that is illuminated to her is always a small victory.

"You're happy for me," says Artie, suddenly.

Tina immediately sits up straight. "Eh? Oh. Yes, of course I am!"

"Why?"

"Artie, I'm your mentor and therapist. The fact that you're doing something different from watching _West Side Story_ all day and that you can be so confident and eloquent while presenting your views... you've improved so much, do you know that?" Tina feels something wet prick at her eyes as she speaks and she has to blink a few times. _Good Lord, I need to stop turning on the waterworks so easily._

"I... I think so."

"You _have_."

The bell rings, and Artie pulls away to slot the tape back into its position and rolls away. He doesn't say goodbye because he seems to be deep in thought. Tina follows him to his dorm, but he doesn't look back and shuts himself in before she can say anything.

That night, she dreams of Artie rolling out to thunderous applause from the cast and crew on stage, and the audience below. He's dressed in his spiffiest suit and bowtie, and he arranges his spectacles on his nose properly before he smiles and dips his head to both sides. She's standing in the front row, clapping her hands raw, and he meets her gaze. Then his smile widens into a grin.

_"Amazing! That was such a beautiful musical, I loved it so, so much!"_ A woman next to her whispers with great fondness, holding up her hanky for effect.

And then Tina is reaching for her own, but wakes up instead with sticky trails down her cheeks.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tina's car breaks down on the way to work one day, so she spends a good part of the day calling the tow truck, sending it for repairs and having to run errands from her mom who thinks it's a convenient moment for her to do so. She calls the center and gets Emma to help her take over her sessions for the day until she's done. By the time she drives back to work, it's almost four o'clock.

Emma opens the door of Room No. 3 and her startled expression surprises Tina.

"Is everything okay?" Tina asks.

"It's..." Emma gestures to Artie before the T.V. screen. "I mean, it just seems really odd to me. He did say 'Good afternoon' and all, but... I've really never seen him like – like _this_."

By _this_, she means he's sitting in front of the T.V. as usual, except for the fact that he is holding a clipboard with Tina's profit-and-loss table template on it, scribbling on it as he looks up and down from the screen, and being _absolutely quiet_.

Tina raises her eyebrows, and Emma matches her expression.

"Oh," says Tina, as nonchalantly as possible, "he's just... hard at work."

Emma stares at her for a moment, then fishes out a pamphlet from her bag. It says, WHEN SOMEONE IS A RUN _OFF_ THE MILL, and a person flailing on a treadmill below.

"Really?" Tina eyes Emma skeptically.

"It's for people who display very different attitudes and behaviors from usual," says Emma, seriously. "Just don't show him that picture, I think it's sensitive for his legs."

Tina stares at her, then puts on a weak smile. "Thanks! I'll take it from here then."

When Emma leaves, Tina grins to herself, then walks over to observe Artie's template. He has scribbled so much (and pretty viciously too, but thankfully it's just paper and not people's egos) that he has used up at least five pieces of templates.

Tina edges towards the T.V. so that his attention is diverted to her. He scowls, blinks, then adjusts his expression to a more neutral one. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, Artie. That's a lot that you've written down."

"I never noticed that the props were a little ill-positioned at some parts. Today it just takes attention away from the characters."

"That's a really good point," says Tina, and Artie almost smiles. "I have an idea, Artie. You're getting really good at grading the show with that template. I want to see if you can help me grade another show with it."

Artie, of course, rejects that proposition immediately. Tina doesn't push the matter till the next day, when she brings it up again.

Artie fixes her an annoyed glare. "I told you –"

"You only want to watch _West Side Story_," says Tina, as she fishes out the _Singin' In The Rain_ tape. "But a good director can comment on any show, whether he likes it or not."

Artie doesn't quite know how to respond, so Tina continues,

"You're not _watching_ it. You're _grading_ it."

It's a little bit sly playing around with words like this, but somehow Artie seems to accept it a little better. After all, Rachel played with the fact that he enjoys different perspectives in order to get him to watch another show, so she figured this might work too. And it does, because when she removes the _West Side Story_ tape and inserts the _Singin' In The Rain_ one in, he only makes a few grumbles.

From the minute the musical starts, his pencil is poised. He begins scribbling the moment the camera moves, and Tina can't help being amused.

The thing is, he _does_ watch while grading, of course, and he's watching just as intently as he did with _West Side Story_. Tina is supposed to fill in her own report while watching him, but her own hand is frozen as she notes his gaze, the way he twists his mouth to the side as he writes, the way he holds his pencil like he's holding a paintbrush...

Then Gene Kelly sends the woman into the house as he walks onto the street in the rain with his umbrella. Artie doesn't really react much until the song begins, and his eyes widen.

_"I'm singin' in the rain... just singin' in the rain... what a glorious feeling, I'm happy again..."_

Artie blinks rapidly, then turns his gaze to Tina. "The umbrella," he says, then stops short. He looks back at the screen and then drops his pencil. "The umbrella!"

Tina just shoots him a knowing look and pretends to pay more attention to her report. When the show is over, she gets him to present his table once again. Halfway through, he rubs his eyes and yawns, but continues speaking nonetheless. At the end of it, Tina applauds again and tells him how he can improve on his manner of speech. But secretly, she knows he has improved tremendously and frankly, she couldn't be happier.

Or at least, she thought she couldn't be, until he puts back the tape and is on his way out, humming "Singin' In The Rain" as he does.

"Artie?" whispers Tina.

He stops humming and wheeling immediately, spins around and looks at her. "Yes?"

"You're singing 'Singin' In The Rain'," says Tina, unable to hide the awe in her voice. "You're singing something else other than a _West Side Story_ song."

Artie arches his eyebrows. "I am? No."

"Yes, you were!"

"No, I wasn't," he says, but he isn't annoyed, just mildly surprised.

And perhaps he really doesn't think he's singing it. A kid back in her old workplace didn't really talk and only expressed himself through humming. He would hum everything – from commercial jingles to pop tunes to classical music – even when his thumb got caught in the edge of a cupboard and he couldn't scream so all he did was to hum scales. Sometimes they know nothing about what they are doing because it comes so spontaneously, but quite often, it betrays what they really think and feel deep inside.

Tina can't help but lean forward to hug Artie.

"I'm so glad," she whispers. "You're doing so well, Artie. Keep it up."

She squeezes his back, then attempts to pull back when she feels his hands touch her back – first tentatively, then she feels all ten appendages splayed out.

"This is nice," he says.

Tina pulls back, and he immediately places his hands back on the wheels. But he is still looking at her, a little curiously. "The person who hugged me before you was my mother."

Tina blinks.

"She smells very nice. Like... like a big bouquet of flowers," says Artie, although Tina is pretty sure that analogy was used by somebody else before and he picked it up. "You do too, but it's a different smell. I like it anyway." Then he looks down at his fingers. "I like hugs. It feels warm and nice and I haven't felt that in a long time."

"You miss your mother," says Tina, quietly.

He nods. "Yeah."

Something just blooms within Tina – she can't quite figure what – but she's hugging him once again. "No matter what, Artie," she says, "you can talk to me. You can tell me what makes you happy and sad, and I'll listen to you. You don't have to feel alone anymore."

She feels his fingers on her back more certainly now, and is suddenly very aware that today, he's not wearing a sweater, just a long-sleeved white shirt with brown suspenders – and she can feel that his whole body is tensed up. She rubs her fingers along his muscles to soothe the tension, and slowly, he relaxes in her arms. The next thing she's aware of, is that he's also doing the same, and _damn, it feels good, this just –_

She pulls back, straightening herself up and smoothening her blouse down. Artie stares at her with those big blue eyes and she can't look at him anymore. She turns back to the table and hastily gathers her things.

When Artie leaves, she lets out the breath she didn't know she had been holding.

-.-.-.-.-.-

When she walks out of the room, she sees many of the center participants heading towards the entrance to meet the crowd of parents and guardians. Sugar blows a goodbye kiss to all the staff as usual, before bouncing off to meet a huge Mercedes-Benz in the lot. Jacob lumbers off with his handler while Howard's caretaker comes to take him from Whiskers. Tina did file a report against Whiskers, but nothing had been done. According to Santana, the Bamboo family really couldn't care less about Howard's progress (or regress, for that matter) and Whiskers had eloquently argued his way through. Santana promised that if she had the time to pass by and see that same scenario for herself, she would go 'all Lima Heights Adjacent' on that man, whatever that meant.

Speaking of Santana, Tina watches as she gives Brittany a tight hug in front of Brittany's mother. But just as Santana pulls away, Brittany leans forward to give an excited kiss on Santana's cheek before leaping off to join her mother. Brittany's mother shoots Santana a surprised, albeit wary look, before ushering her daughter away.

Tina leaves before Santana can see her. She hands in her report at the receptionist's desk and is about to head towards the carpark when she stops. Then turns. And then walks back into the building.

She heads towards the rooms and peeks into every single one of them. Room No. 9, empty. Oh, there's Finn again, in no. 8, now working on what seems to be a radio. Ken's in the next room tidying up. Empty. Empty. Empty. A couple of girls in there working on crafts. Will's still working with a stuttering girl called Pepper – maybe he got special permission to continue after-hours –

Then there's Artie, surprisingly back in Room No. 3. Sue doesn't really want the therapists to hang around their mentees after-hours because she thinks it limits the space that the mentees can get on their own. Then again, he seems to be doing the exact same thing he had been doing while Tina was there – watching _Singin' In The Rain_ with a pencil and clipboard. For a moment, Tina fears she has started a new obsession.

From the window, she can see that on the table there is a stack of templates he completed while she's been busy doing up her report. It looks about the same as the previous one, but then there's an extra line below in the 'LOSS/CONS' column of the table.

_'Tina is not the one singing and dancing.'_

Tina steps away slowly from the window and leans against the wall, staring out into the garden.

She has indeed started a problem.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Everything goes on as usual, but _everything changes._

She's not quite sure how things are different, but they feel different. Now when she steps into Room No. 3, she feels like she needs to sit a little straighter, speak a little firmer with that professional twang in her voice, and most of all, maintain a little distance. Artie doesn't seem to notice, so it's really all the same.

But it isn't.

She takes out her frustration on the keyboard after her session with Artie one day, earning herself a suspicious glare from Santana.

"Did Changster stop banging you or something, so you feel the need to transfer those skills to an inanimate object?"

Tina narrows her eyes. "I'd appreciate if you didn't try your psychologist tricks on me."

"Well, given that I'm a behavioral therapist, that would mean conditioning you to fancy chicks, but I don't think you'd appreciate that either."

_Maybe I would_, thinks Tina, sarcastically. Then she thinks of Santana and Brittany, hesitates, then asks,

"Do you think it'll be a good idea if we swapped mentees occasionally? I mean, getting an in-depth analysis into another routine might be good for our learning too."

"That's stupid," says Santana, automatically. "You know it's devastating to some people to disrupt routines, and even if Stubbles doesn't flip his chair, Brittany will bawl. Furthermore, I really have no interest in watching him watch people shove each other around while belting corny, lovesick lyrics on a grainy screen."

"Well, neither do I," says another voice, and both of them look up to see Sue approaching their desks. "But I think it's a breath of fresh air compared to you watching Brittany line her Barbies and unicorns up in rows all day long."

"But..." Santana protests.

"Lady Chang, you've got your wish," says Sue. "But whenever you wanna switch, you better tell your mentees at least two days in advance and remind them the following day. Do all the necessary preparations. If I see so much as a dent in a wheelchair or a messy braid with mismatched flowers, you're having a special brew of Sue's Healthy Herbs." And with that, she walks off.

"Sue's Healthy Herbs?" Tina raises an eyebrow.

"Trust me," says Santana. "The last time I screwed up and had it, the sand bits got stuck in my throat and I couldn't talk for days. It's like Hangman, she'll select the body parts to mangle each time with a new ingredient."

"Is that even legal?" Tina gasps.

"I'm not sure the law has any bounds around that woman."

Tina finds it pretty hard to have her lunch that day.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"No."

"Artie, it's just for Thursday."

"_No._" Artie glares at her. "I don't want anybody else."

_Well, at least I can be sure he's definitely moved on from Rachel._ "Santana's a really good singer too." Or at least, the humming that she hears sometimes from the neighboring desk seems to suggest. "It's good for you to get to talk to more people."

"I know it's good for directing," says Artie, folding his arms. "But I don't like it."

He pauses. "Are you unhappy with me? That's why you want to change to Brittany?"

Tina barks out a harsh laugh. "Artie, it's just for one day! No, I'm not unhappy with you. In fact, I'm so proud of you."

"That doesn't make any sense," he says, and wheels away from the table.

"Artie..."

"I've been trying!" He turns around to face her again, his eyes desperate. "I've been trying hard to be a good director! I hate it when I have to watch something else, but I know it will make me a good director so I will watch it!"

"Yes, you have been trying," says Tina, evenly. "But you don't hate it. Otherwise, you wouldn't be singing the songs from _Singin' In The Rain_."

"I don't sing them!" He glares at her. Then he huffs. "I get so angry all the time. I can't be a good director if I get angry all the time and don't want to meet other people. I'm not doing this."

Feeling rather angry herself, Tina goes forward and stills his chair, bending over to look intensely at him.

"Artie, if you get angry all the time, I can help you work through your anger. As for meeting other people, we're just trying _one day_. One day with Santana. If you have a problem with it while being with her, you can let us know later. But Santana has worked with you before and you didn't have huge anger issues with it. You can do this, Artie, you're just scared to try."

Artie is still eyeing her warily, but then his bottom lip trembles and his spectacles slip down his nose.

"Yeah," he mutters. "I _am_ scared."

Instinctively, she reaches out to hug him once again. _There goes the whole idea of maintaining distance. _He relaxes in her embrace and she can feel the edges of his spectacles against her shoulder.

"Don't leave," he whispers.

Tina feels a tingle run down her spine. "Artie, I'm not _leaving_ you. We're helping you by exposing you to changes."

He grips her back tightly in response. She lets him soak in the hug for a while more.

"Shall we continue with our conversational skills session?" she finally whispers.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Yeah."

So they do, and Tina is ready to repeat this whole routine the next day. But repeating the routine also means a repeated response of annoyance and disapproval from Artie, who clearly states that he doesn't want Santana in the room during what ought to be his session with Tina.

"It's just _not right_," he emphasizes petulantly.

"And then you're going to hurt Santana by saying that you want me here," says Tina. "Like how you hurt me by saying you wanted Rachel."

_Really, Tina? Really? That's a low blow and you know it._

Tina bites her lip the moment she says that out and Artie stares at her confusedly.

"You were hurt when I talked about Rachel?"

"Well, she sings like Maria, doesn't she?" Tina puts her hands on her hips. "And... and she gets your opinions about _West Side Story_. I don't sound anything like her, I don't share the sheer, unadulterated joy of watching a musical like her, I don't –"

"You can dance," offers Artie. "She can't."

Tina stares at him.

_Is he trying to make me feel better?_

All she can manage is, "What?"

"I said, you can dance." He points at her umbrella by the side of the room. Then he looks back at her. "You sing and dance just like I like to. I like you because you share the 'sheer, unadulterated joy' of singing and dancing too." And then he smiles.

Tina blinks. "You like to dance?"

His expression droops a little. "Yes. But I can't anymore."

"Artie, just because you are on wheels doesn't mean you can't dance. They move, too."

"They don't move like legs," argues Artie. "They don't move the way you want them to. I want to be able to side-step. I want to be able to do a quick twirl. I can't do that on this." His voice gets louder. "I used to be able to do it. People asked me what my ambition was when I was young and I told them I was good at all these, I could become somebody amazing. But now I can't become a singer and dancer like I wanted to be. I can only sit here and direct a show and I can't be on that stage!"

"Artie," says Tina, and she kneels down next to his chair as he thumps his fists on his thighs. "Hey." She presses his fists down. "Listen to me. You can still be a singer. And people dance in wheelchairs too. They may not sing and dance the same way that the ones you see on stage can, but they are special and shine in their own way. Your directing skills are a talent, and you shouldn't see them as something secondary to your singing and dancing."

He doesn't look like he's listening; he's just clenching his fists, looking really angry and muttering under his breath. It is then that she realizes when he had become what he thought was a 'useless cripple' (as Quinn Fabray put it) after his accident, it wasn't just because he wouldn't be able to walk again.

He would never dance again either.

He doesn't talk for the rest of the session and refuses to scribble on the template too. All he does is turn the tape in his hands over and over again. Tina doesn't try to coax him out of it; she's writing down on her report sheets, but at the same time, she's thinking hard.

When she's home, she powers up her laptop and begins to type 'wheelchair dancing' on Google. As she's browsing through some of the links, her phone rings. It's Mike, and she relaxes a little hearing his cheerful voice.

_"Do open the door,"_ he says, after they exchange stories of their days.

Tina is confused. "For what?"

_"Just open it,"_ says Mike. _"I promise it's not a bomb or an overexcited puppy. Although, would you like the latter?"_

Tina chokes back a laugh as she opens her front door. She gasps as she picks up a large bouquet of beautiful red and pink roses. "Mike, they're beautiful. Thank you."

_"Have a good night, Tina,"_ he says, sincerely, and hangs up.

She walks past the sitting room with the gigantic bouquet, trying hard not to meet her mother's knowing gaze or listen to her father's chuckle. When she puts the bouquet into a vase and sits on her bed to stare at it, her gaze drifts to the lit screen of her computer. Sighing, she gets off the bed, slips back into the chair and begins to scroll the webpages once more.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

Tina reaches the Center earlier than usual in hope to find Mike to thank him personally, but after scouring the compound, she finds him at the field trying to coach a teenage boy out of his 'meltdown' phase. Kids in particular went into that mode when they were agitated or frightened, which meant hysterics, violence or for some, even epilepsy.

Seeing as Mike seemed to be handling the situation quite well on his own with the visual cue cards hanging around his neck, Tina goes back to her workstation. She and Santana exchange more tips and notes on how to manage each other's mentees, and Tina is impressed by how earnest Santana is when it comes to Brittany. Her sharp tone melts into something softer and warmer, and she wonders if she sounds just as proud of Artie as Santana is of Brittany.

Tina spends the time after lunch at the design studio where Holly gives her an in-depth tour of the art pieces and designs that the center participants have contributed. Sugar's designs stand out in particular, not just because of the bright colors, but also that they have a certain freshness of perspective and Tina feels like Kurt would go all grabby-hands in this small little creative space. She watches as Sugar and some of the others spend their time sketching on paper, canvas or the computer. The problem is that not enough people come by to view their designs, both in the physical shop and online. Holly is a great teacher, but she's no marketer. Tina files this at the back of her mind.

When it's time to meet Brittany, Tina has her hands full from the moment she steps into Room No. 5. As it turns out, the reason for Brittany getting a specialized therapist is because she's extremely emotional. She bursts out into tears when she realizes Tina is taking over Santana's session, despite Santana assuring Tina that she had prepped Brittany well for the change in routine. Tina takes almost an hour to calm Brittany down for good, and wryly thinks back to when Artie insisted he had to have Rachel.

Brittany then begins to talk a lot about little elves living in the corners of the room building trees for gummy bears. Her eyes dart around constantly and her expression is earnest and thoughtful all at once.

"Brittany?" Tina says gently. "Tell me what the elves look like."

Brittany starts to get a lot more excited as she describes the little creatures and their hardworking nature. Tina's a little concerned that Santana indulges Brittany's fantasies when she is already twenty-six, but as it is, these fantasies also lend material to her drawings. When Brittany puts crayon to paper, it seems like she's ready to do a kiddy drawing. But when she manages to draw elves that look suspiciously like Disney characters, Tina can't help clasping her hands together. Then the next thing she draws are broccolis, which she insists are where the gummy bears live.

"Brittany," says Tina, as patiently as she can manage. "Gummy bears are not living things. They are meant for eating."

"They try to escape at night," says Brittany. "I've stopped eating them and you should too. It's cruel."

Tina thinks that next time she should show Brittany a video of how gummy bears are made. Not that she means to be cruel, but she thinks there are some doses of reality that need to be fed somehow. Brittany continues with her story, but Santana had said that she just recites the story over and over again – she's not really telling it to anyone in particular. The rest of the session is spent trying to get Brittany to talk about her drawing, but somehow when Tina tries mentioning Santana again, the girl starts to tear a little, and it starts all over again.

_Well then, Santana's probably having a hard time trying to calm Artie down too. I asked for this._

Tina ends her session with Brittany five minutes earlier so that she can let the girl dance on her own inside the room. She goes to Room No. 3 to take a peek, and is surprised to see that Artie is diligently explaining _Singin' In The Rain_ to Santana using the table template. He's calm and confident when presenting as usual, which is great, but most of all, when he ends and Santana applauds him, he's _smiling_.

_Smiling!_ Has Santana even seen him smile before?

Santana places Artie's table gently on the table and works through with him for a bit. Frowning a little, Tina steps away from the window and backtracks a bit. She paces around till the bell rings. Then she pretends to walk towards the door just as Santana exits.

"Oh, hey!" Tina says, brightly. "How was it?"

Santana stares at her, then shrugs. "Okay. You've done a pretty fly job of making him talk to me like I'm there. It's nice to be appreciated as a visible thing every now and then."

She says it with a slight sadness, although Tina is fairly sure Brittany does regard Santana as a 'visible thing' – and maybe even more.

"I'm surprised he's so calm," says Tina, peeking through the window again where Artie has turned to face the screen once more. "He was really upset when he heard you were taking over."

Santana blinks. "Well, if he was, he didn't show it. He practically worked a butler charm on me the moment I entered. Did you make him watch some preppy schoolboy musical where they teach you how to angle your beret and polish your crowns? I swear he was like that grubby and cantankerous ol' janitor at my high school before who couldn't get past three words without swearing. But with Artie, it's glaring. Was Brittany okay, by the way?"

"Yeah. Still spacey and talking about little elves though."

"She didn't mention the oven this time, did she? The other day, Sue told Will elves were baking cookies in his loony, wiry locks and Brittany thought they'd do the same in her trees. If I could get Famous Amos that way, I'd have drunk a serum of curly hair DNA every morning."

Tina doesn't quite know how to feel as Santana brushes past her. She turns to the window and watches Artie as he stares at the T.V. He doesn't really write anything when the song _Singin' In The Rain_ comes on; he just watches intently. When it ends, he switches the T.V. off.

_That's a first_. Tina arches her eyebrows. Artie rarely watches a show halfway.

"I know you're there," he says loudly. "Can you come in?"

Tina makes a face and does as he says. He's wheeled himself to face her, and is looking at her curiously.

"Why do you keep watching me from the window?" he asks. "You can come in and sit here if you like."

"I'm supposed to let you have time alone," says Tina, awkwardly. Then she pauses. "Wait, so you know I'm always standing outside?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

There is an awkward silence (at least, for Tina) before she sits down and asks quietly, "So working with Santana was fine?"

Artie shrugs, a little too clinically. "She let me watch my show and do my table."

"You had a good chat with her."

"She made sense," he says.

Tina still isn't quite sure how she feels about him adjusting so quickly, but decides it's for the better.

When she doesn't say anything for the next few minutes, Artie asks, "Could you sing the song for me? _Singin' In The Rain_, with the umbrella?"

For a moment, Tina still can't find the right words to say. Then she tilts her head. "I thought you hated the umbrella."

"Well, it doesn't go with anything in _West Side Story_." He looks at her like she's a five-year-old. "It's a symbolic prop in _Singin' In The Rain_, so of course you have to use it."

Tina picks up the umbrella and fidgets with it. "Umm... shall we go outside instead? I uhh, need some fresh air."

Artie doesn't seem pleased, but he wheels out anyway, with Tina trailing behind. She picks up a bright yellow umbrella that she had seen on the bench in the quadrangle and when Artie stops moving, she affixes her own blue one to the back of his wheelchair.

"What are you doing?" asks Artie.

Tina picks up the yellow umbrella and starts dancing around. _"I'm singin' in the rain... just singin' in the rain..._ Come on, Artie, you know how to twirl."

"I don't," says Artie, his face darkening.

"Yes, you do, you always wheel around from the T.V. to the table. Show me how you wheel around."

Grudgingly, he does so.

"Okay, now wheel back."

"This is stupid," says Artie, staying put. "I can't dance."

"Well, you can't dance like me, but you can dance like you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

Tina takes a deep breath. "Okay, you want sense? Then just follow my movements. Whenever I turn around, you have to do so too."

Artie scowls. "I don't like this."

Tina bends over slightly to grip the handrails of his wheelchair. "Artie Abrams, you said you have always wanted to dance. I'm teaching you how to dance in a wheelchair. Do you want to learn, or not?"

Artie blinks.

Tina cocks her head to the side.

"Okay," he says, resignedly.

Tina claps her hands in glee. "Okay, when I step forward, you wheel forward. When I step back, you move back. Follow me as I side-step too." She promptly demonstrates while she speaks. Artie starts to concentrate and follows her movements by wheeling from side-to-side.

"Now who says you can't dance?" Tina demands, as she starts to belt out the lyrics of _Singin' In The Rain_. Artie is too focused on moving, but when eventually he gets the hang of it, he starts to sing along too. Tina drops her notes to a harmony, but Artie's melody is still ringing out strong.

_"I'm singin' in the rain... just singin' in the rain..."_

Artie wheels around as Tina twirls; he leans back on the little wheels when Tina falls back on one leg; she takes his hand and helps spin him around as she holds out the umbrella. A slow smile blooms on Artie's face, and Tina's constantly beaming.

_"What a glorious feelin', I'm happy again..."_

Artie nearly wobbles off his chair at one point and Tina nearly slips on her foot, but still, they continue singing.

Until it starts to rain.

Tina immediately shifts the umbrella over her head. "Time to go back in, Artie!"

"No!" Artie stills her hands as she moves towards his chair handles. "This is perfect weather to sing the song in."

Tina stares at him bemusedly. "Artie, you'll get wet."

"No, we have umbrellas," he says, matter-of-factly. "Come on."

"Since when did you get so adventurous?" Tina wonders aloud, but she's laughing as she spins him around. Artie's singing rises above the splatter of rain and Tina joins him.

_"I'm laughing at clouds, so dark up above..."_

She kicks about in the rain, and his wheels splash water all around too. Then Tina realizes Artie's laughing, _out loud_, and it's possibly the most beautiful sound she's ever heard in a long while.

_"The sun's in my heart, and I'm ready for love..."_

The way they're singing and dancing, they might as well not have umbrellas. Artie's spectacles are glistening with raindrops while Tina's hair is getting plastered to her face. Then, Artie is tilting his wheelchair – yes, _tilting_ – and rocking back and forth to the beat as he sings. His smile is the widest Tina has ever seen. He can't possibly see much through those wet glasses of his, but he reaches out and takes her hands anyway, and swings her around joyfully with one hand. Tina squeals in delight as she does a quick skip along.

At that moment, they are not therapist and mentee.

At that moment, they are a young man and a young woman who love music and are singing and dancing to their hearts' content in the rain.

"Artie!" yelps Tina, as he turns and his wheels splash up to her knees.

Artie raises his hands up in triumph, knocks the umbrella further back and promptly gets wetter.

Eventually, Tina pushes him back to shelter against his protests with a simple but firm, "We can't let you get sick!" She grabs a pack of tissues from her bag and helps wipe Artie's face. It's so wet that the tissues are soaked through immediately. He stills her hand once again and she stares at him in surprise.

"I can do it," he says, and proceeds to take the tissue packet from her. He takes out his spectacles and cleans them meticulously, then cleans his own face. But what she doesn't expect is that when he's done, he takes a fresh set of tissues and says, "Bend down."

She does so automatically without really realizing that what he wants to do – and which he does – is to help dab her face.

Tina freezes.

Artie's hand is gentle as he presses down and lifts up on each rivulet of rain on her face. The way he's so attentive is almost hypnotic – or maybe it's the crystal blue of his eyes, the way it seems to glitter, she's never seen a color quite like that before –

She doesn't dare to pull back for fear of startling and possibly, annoying him, so she just sits there patiently while he cleans up her face. All she can do is to watch his eyes and get mesmerized by how in place of the usual blankness, there's a shine, a glow, a radiance that seems to penetrate through her skin.

She's not sure if the quick shiver that runs through her is due to the cold, or something else.

When he retrieves his hand, she whispers, "Thank you," and goes about clearing up the place. She knows exactly when he leaves – not immediately after the "Goodbye", because he lingers – but when she finally slots the tape back amongst the rest. Then she looks outside the window, where the rain continues to pour.

Mike's the first to see her enter the staff room, half-soaked with a completely dry face. He stares a moment too long, before he rushes off and comes back with a towel to help dry her hair. Both he and Santana look at her with incredulity, but she just laughs it off.

Her laugh comes out giddy, giggly, and she finds herself smiling for the rest of the day.

_Why am I smiling, and why do I sing?  
Why does September seem sunny as spring?_  
_Why do I get up each morning and start?  
Happy and head up, with joy in my heart.  
Why is each new task a trifle to do?_

_Because I am living a life full of you._

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Santana?"

"Mm?"

"Can I borrow a *sniff* pack of tissues from you?"

"Girl, at the rate you're going, you could just flood your desk," says Santana, rolling her eyes. "Snatch a roll from the ladies, I ain't wasting good two-ply soft tissues on your sniffles."

Tina skips the session with other center participants after lunch to rest at the staff lounge so that she can be well enough for Artie's session. Her slumber is interrupted halfway through when Santana bursts in with hands on her hips.

"Okay, why's McCrippants looking like a Rudolph too?"

Tina blinks sleepily. "W-what? Who's McCrippants?"

Santana sinks down into the couch next to her. "It's short for something you don't want to know, but I simply mean Abrams. Who got sick first?"

Tina frowns as she sits up and rubs her eyes. "We were both well yesterday..."

Santana arches an eyebrow. "Okay, 'fess up, chica. It was rainin' yesterday and you were like a drenched chicken. What did the two of you do? Do a rain ritual?"

"What? No..." Tina yawns, then stops halfway. "Wait."

Santana sits up straight.

Tina groans. "Oh no..."

"Are you a pagan or something? Rain rituals are so yesterday! And by the way, you need to know that they aren't for healing legs."

"No, I was just..." Tina feels her cheeks grow red. "It was just a harmless song-and-dance thing. We were mimicking Gene Kelly in _Singin' In The Rain_, that's all. We even had umbrellas! I didn't think we'd get sick from that bit of rain..."

"I think we should cancel your session with him and send him straight to bed," says Santana. "He doesn't look that good too."

Tina takes the rest of the day off, but not before going to see Artie at his dorm. Santana has already tucked him in and put a towel on his forehead – apparently, she forgot to mention the fact that he was burning up. But she makes up for it by not saying anything and leaving the two of them alone.

Overwhelmed with guilt, Tina goes to sit beside Artie. She adjusts his towel and he begins to hum.

_Singin' In The Rain._ Of course.

"Artie?" whispers Tina. "How're you feeling?"

He doesn't respond, but makes a whining noise instead.

Tina's own eyes are watering slightly, but she's more worried that Artie still seems to be heating up. Santana has placed a basin of ice in water and a stack of towels next to the table, and Tina quickly dips one of the towels into the cold water, wrings it and dabs it against Artie's neck.

"I'm so sorry, Artie... no more rain outings again, okay? Even with umbrellas."

"Tina?" Artie croaks.

"Hey," says Tina, cracking a small smile.

"I'm feeling really hot. My throat hurts and my nose is wet."

"You're sick, Artie. You've got a flu and fever."

"Do you have it too?" he asks softly as he touches her hand.

She slips her hand away carefully. "A little bit. But it's okay. I'm going home to rest."

"Do you want a hug?"

Tina's eyes widen. "Artie, it's okay. You'll feel hotter if uhh, you hug me."

"I thought it might make you feel better. It always makes me feel better."

Poor boy. He really was deprived of his hugs.

"You're much sicker than me, Artie, so you should sleep now."

"I can't sleep..."

She continues to dab around his neck.

"Thank you..."

Her hand stills.

"Thank you for teaching me how to dance."

Once again, words die on her tongue despite her open mouth.

"I..." He groans a bit before continuing, "I felt so much better."

Tina ends up chuckling bitterly. "You're _not_ better, Artie."

"My whole body is hot," Artie affirms, and moans again.

Tina stares at him, then swallows as she eyes his buttoned-up shirt. Of course he's hot if he's wearing that. So the logical thing to do would be to unbutton it, right?

_Right_. She reaches out to undo the first button.

Now Tina is feeling _really_ hot, and she's pretty sure it's not because of any kind of fever.

_Thank you_. His words reverberate in her mind. _Thank you._

She continues to dab his skin with the towel as she unbuttons his shirt. She can't _not_ look, otherwise she'll end up wetting his shirt instead. And to her mild surprise, Artie seems to have quite the decent body. Probably because he works out with his wheelchair.

_Tina? Mike has abs. What are you thinking?_

Tina snaps out of it and focuses on cooling Artie's body down with the towel (the focus is the cooling, not the body!). She washes the towel again and wipes his face. He's still moaning, so she doesn't feel like leaving him there alone. She continues the same routine of wiping him down until her eyelids start to droop and her hands start to weaken.

"Tina?" whispers Artie.

"Mm?" She drops the towel on the table and struggles to keep her eyes open.

His hand is on hers, but she can barely register it; her head is so heavy and her nose is now blocked.

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah," Tina mumbles.

She's pretty sure he says something, but she can't really hear it. All she can feel is that the bed is pretty soft and her head needs something soft to lie on.

_It's just for a short while._

Something rests on her head, but it doesn't add to the weight.

_Stop spinning..._

_Mm. There's music._

Whatever is on her head is rubbing her temples now.

_This is nice... that spot on my head is really painful... but yes, that feels better now..._

_Mm._

_"Tina?"_

_Mm._

"Tina?"

_Ugh. I need to rest._

"TINA!"

Tina jolts upright, knocking Artie's hand aside and nearly cracking her neck in the process. "Ow..."

She blinks, rubs her eyes, then sees a figure standing in the doorway. "Eh?"

"What. The hell?" says the figure, who marches in and yanks Tina up.

Oh. It's Santana.

Oh. She's been lying on Artie, not the bed. And he has an unbuttoned shirt.

"You were supposed to be _home_," hisses Santana. "I left you here to say _goodbye_, not to fall asleep in his arms and let him run his fingers through your hair! What were you thinking? The door was freaking half-open! What do you think Sue would have said if she came by?"

"Can we... can we move outside?" asks Tina, weakly. Her head is spinning a little, and Santana's fierce whispers are not helping.

Santana pulls her outside and shuts Artie's dorm door. Then she folds her arms and stares at Tina, who is pretty much still feeling disheveled (and probably looks like it too).

"I..." Tina tries to speak, but her mouth feels dry.

Santana hooks her by the arm. "Okay, I'm not going to say anymore, we just have to get your home. You look like a sick puppy who got kicked. C'mon."

Halfway through stumbling to Santana's car, they meet Mike, who says he will send her home instead. Santana says something rather stern, but Tina can't really make out any more of their conversation. She's pretty sure Artie's heat has transferred to her, because she's burning up like crazy. Her eyelids are drooping again, and somebody's asking her a question. She just nods blindly and hopes it's the right answer. Whatever it is, she just needs that nice, soft headrest and maybe, somebody to sing to her and rub her head again. That would be good.

That would be _really_ good.

-.-.-.-.-.-

A few days later, Tina is back at her desk feeling right as rain and bearing no sign that she's been stuck in bed for that amount of time stuffed with tissues, towels and her favorite teddy bear. Mike's warm and gentle voice relaying Santana's unsympathetic quips and daily happenings with his participants did help to make her feel better. Still, her head had throbbed with the knowledge that Artie had spent days in bed too.

Santana tells her that she has arranged for both Brittany and Artie to attend a music session with Blaine, so instead of having the usual mentee session, Santana and Tina would go to the Lima Bean for a cuppa, with complimentary approval from Sue.

Tina is naturally apprehensive about what is to come.

"I used to come here for lattes after high school," muses Tina, as they get in line at the Lima Bean.

Santana doesn't say anything, not until she requests her "usual caramel macchiato, with extra steroids", much to Tina's horror.

"It tempers the fat content," says Santana, seriously, as they sit at a table. "Okay, now don't change the subject, lady."

"What _was_ the subject?" Tina arches an eyebrow.

"The subject is about you falling asleep in Wheely Boy's arms and looking cozy as a kitten being preened and bow-tied up," says Santana, and Tina winces. "Seriously, Girl Chang? He's so scrawny and was burning up with fever that it must have been like sleeping on scorching driftwood."

"He's not scrawny," retorts Tina, then feels her cheeks heat up once again.

"Did I tell you about Rachel?" Santana's voice turns sweet.

"What about Rachel?"

"She didn't leave because she couldn't stand Artie. She left because she couldn't break her connection with _someone_."

Tina scrunches up her face. "You mean..." She sits up straight. "_Finn?_"

"I'll spare you the details," says Santana. "Repeating it makes me think about her lovesick face and it makes me want to hurl chunks. But anyway, Rachel thought Finn was her type – tall, gentle and his arms look like tree trunks made out of Jell-O. So she let herself sink into a fantasy while Finn really got attached to her."

"He did? But –"

"But he looks perfectly fine now, doesn't he? Talk to him about Rachel now and you won't really get much response beyond that kooky smile and an 'Oh.'."

"It could just be a touchy subject."

"My point is –" says Santana, and she leans forward with a knowing look. "Not only is it unprofessional, it's just not gonna work out. They aren't – they aren't your romantic notions of gentlemanly, hopelessly-in-love dudes. These people either just don't get it the way we do, or they get hurt a million times worse."

"I don't get why you're telling me all this," says Tina, and gulps down her coffee.

Santana doesn't say anything for a while again. They sit there in awkward silence till Santana has polished her cup clean.

But it's Tina who speaks first.

"Also, I don't agree that they can't be romantic or gentlemanly. Maybe they have to learn the 'right', socially acceptable way to express it, but they inherently care. Just because they are more socially awkward doesn't mean they're socially impaired."

"You're right," says Santana. "They have to learn, but it's not easy. It's tiring and it's frustrating for a normal individual..."

"Nobody is _really_ normal!" retorts Tina.

"Yes, Miss Everybody-Is-Equal, but things are different when you get close to someone! For us therapists, opportunities are dime a dozen simply because we want to care and want to be there for that person. We get easily tied to their emotions because when they're happy, it makes us happy, when they're frustrated, it makes us feel desperate too."

Silence.

"I'm not emotionally attached to Artie," says Tina, though it comes out more meek than firm.

Santana arches an eyebrow. "I was making a conclusive statement, for your information."

"It was just a compromising position, not an _act_!" Tina almost yells, then realizes that others are staring and lowers her voice to a whisper. "I just care for him because he is my mentee."

"Uh-huh."

"Santana!"

"Alright, I'll shut up."

"And also, Artie is perfectly capable of good social interactions."

"Yeah, when the past few mass games have really just been a case of 'good social interaction' between the two of you in the garden. And maybe throw in an Anderson, I'll give you that. Progress!" Santana waves her hands in mock triumph.

Tina folds her arms. "I'll prove it to you soon enough."

Santana snorts. "Also, if having an intellectual conversation of economical analysis on musical theatre counts as 'good social interaction', I rather he face the T.V. screen every day than give me a lecture on why an umbrella works better than a teapot in the rain or something."

Tina narrows her eyes at Santana. "Now let's see, Brittany cries when you're not around. She draws you. You two hug each other all the time..."

"Not all the time!" retorts Santana, but she's growing red again.

"So you're not emotionally attached to Brittany? You know, the whole – we're tied to each other's emotions?"

"...no! I mean, I care about her, but not in that way!" Santana huffs. "You know what I mean! And she's a girl, for God's sake, that's different!"

"Ah. Right."

Santana shoots Tina an exasperated look just as Tina smiles innocently.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tina meets Sugar for a routine session the following day. She decides to abandon the usual protocol sheet of standard questions and goes straight to asking about Sugar's latest design (a mink coat with jewel studs!), her dream pair of shoes (Louboutin cream stilettos) and sunnies (Prada leopard print)...

And somehow the topic shifts to men, because Sugar wistfully adds on to her wishlist that there would be a "charming, handsome and rich fella with almond-shaped blue eyes, blond hair and a sharp chin, with muscles to carry her to Saks Avenue at New York and buy (her) a store there".

Tina blinks. "Wow, Sugar. That's a tough man to get hold of."

"Of course he has to be tough," says Sugar, patting down her fur coatie. "I need to lean on somebody."

"I mean, not many men fit that criteria."

Sugar stares at Tina for a minute too long and Tina feels like she has overstepped some kind of line – till Sugar sighs loudly.

"I know. None of them will be as rich as me and they will feel inferior. They will only want me for my money and looks."

"Oh, Sugar," says Tina, immediately. "That's not true. You're a lovable, sweet girl who's definitely going to find somebody who will care for you."

Sugar shrugs. "Asperger's people aren't very good at dating. I always say things that when people hear, they know immediately that I have Asperger's."

Tina chews on her bottom lip as Sugar continues,

"When you first came to talk to me, you talked like the others too. Everybody sees that I'm not like them, which I really, really like and really, really hate too."

_"These people either just don't get it the way we do, or they get hurt a million times worse."_ Santana's voice echoes in Tina's head.

_Or maybe, it's us who don't get it the way they do._

"It's just really confusing," says Sugar. Although she sounds nonchalant, Tina's pretty sure she's anything but. "I'm being honest and they don't like it – I definitely want my partner to be honest with me."

"You aren't like everyone else, that's a fact," says Tina, smiling. "You dress better, you speak better, you're extremely talented..."

"And I can hold a very good conversation in fashion, care for people and make sure they look awesome," finishes Sugar. "I also sing very, very well. I do the best renditions of 'Big Spender' from _Sweet Charity_."

Sugar proceeds to launch into a raspy and completely off-tune rendition of the song, which Tina has to keep her face straight for. _Well, the girl sure is expressive, I'll give her that. _At the end, she applauds politely and leans forward to take Sugar's hand, startling the girl.

"Sugar," says Tina. "I'm going to be honest and say that... you're not a great singer."

Sugar looks cross. "But –"

"No, listen to me. Regardless, you're going to be an amazing young woman. I _know_ that. Your designs are one of a kind and your mind works so quickly." Tina squeezes Sugar's hand. "Maybe not everybody likes what you say, but they can see for themselves how successful you'll be."

"How do you know I'll be successful? Did Brittany's time machine tell you that?" asks Sugar, slightly confused, although she puts her hand on top of Tina's.

Tina breaks into a grin. "I'm sure you'll be."

That night, she calls Kurt up and they begin a conversation which mostly consists of Kurt ranting about the bitchy people in his company who can't seem to match colors appropriately or keep ordering the wrong kind of fabric for him. Just as he is about to launch into a dramatic tear-down of his fashionably-challenged colleague, Tina sends him an email of some of Sugar's designs that she had requested from Holly. Kurt's loud gasp through the phone sends a thrill through her body, even though he ends the call with a clipped, "I'll think about it."

That night, she dreams the same dream of Artie on stage receiving a standing ovation.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

Artie is very attentive during Tina's sessions with him ever since their little sing-and-dance routine in the rain (and that very awkward compromising position which Tina is _really_ not going to think about...), and Tina is very heartened by his progress. His eyebrows are furrowed deep as he listens to her go through appropriate conversation starters and fillers, then repeats after her and even attempts to modify them.

"Artie?" Tina finally asks one day, as she is filling in her report.

He looks up from the _Singin' In The Rain _DVD on his lap. "Yes?"

"I think you're doing really, really well."

He dips his head slightly. "Okay. Thank you."

"You took many years when you could have just taken a few," says Tina, slowly.

"What do you mean?" Artie frowns.

Tina hesitates, then she puts down her pen. "Why didn't you try hard last time? Rachel told me you didn't really respond to her much. You hardly even called her name – but when I came, you kept asking for her."

Artie twists his lips and looks away. Then he wheels himself towards the T.V. Tina follows him.

"Don't move away from me," she says gently. "Talk to me."

"I did try," he argues. "I tried."

"But not as much as now," says Tina. Then she decides to change direction. "Are you happy now, Artie?"

Artie looks up at her. Then he picks up the remote.

Tina takes it from him.

"Hey," he protests, but it doesn't come out quite as petulant.

"Are you happy, Artie?"

He remains silent for quite a while, but Tina patiently waits till he finally replies,

"Yes."

"What makes you happy?"

Artie shifts his torso slightly. Tina knows he hates answering many questions, but she has to know.

"I can do something," he says, at last. "I can't walk, but I can use my hands and my mouth and my eyes and my ears."

Tina wants to point out that many people have been trying to tell him that ever since his accident, but he continues,

"I can be a director. I can be a singer." Then he looks straight at Tina. "I can be a dancer too."

Tina opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

"Rachel sings with me. She talks to me about _West Side Story_. But she knows more and she sings better. I feel like everybody thinks they know it better even though I have watched it so many more times. Quinn thinks I should stop being sad, but I can't be happy when she's angry with me and there's nothing for me to do to make myself happy."

She swallows instead, but the lump in her throat still remains.

Artie looks down at his fingers. "Only you made me feel like I am really good at what I can do. I can also do things in different ways and still be good at it. I feel..."

He takes a while to find the word, and even when he does find it, he doesn't sound very convinced that it's the right one. "...alive?"

_The hills are alive... with the sound of my sniffling._

_Stop it, Tina!_

Tina blinks back the wet stickiness in her eyes. "Artie, you are an amazing, wonderful young man." _This sounds familiar._ "You don't need people to tell you how good you are, you know it yourself. Believe in yourself."

Artie doesn't have Sugar's confidence to agree wholeheartedly, but when he immerses himself in an analysis of a new musical, _The Wizard Of Oz_, Tina knows that he is beginning to truly believe in himself.

At the end of the day, Tina follows Santana to the front porch where the parents are gathered to pick their children up. One of them has a strange habit of checking her daughter from head to toe as if to make sure no strand or fabric thread is out of place. Another asks a checklist of questions ranging from "What did you eat for lunch?" to "How many times did you go to the gents today?" – Tina's not sure whether it's because the son needs it as part of his routine before he can get into the car, or it's the father who needs it as part of his own routine.

There's a particular woman who irks Tina a lot because of the way she helps put on her son's jacket, ties his shoelaces, smoothens down his shirt, takes his bag from him – and the son is taller than her, reads eloquently in Will's therapy classes (though he's dyslexic and stutters a little in conversation), plays a good game of football under Mike's guidance, and is well over thirty years old.

It makes her wonder what Artie's parents would have done for him had they still been alive.

"That's just not right," says Tina, fuming. "Sam can do all of those things by himself, and more!"

"I guess it's hard to think your son's all grown up when he still introduces himself to people, 'Hi, I'm Sam, I like green eggs and ham... Sam, I am!'," says Santana, nonchalantly.

"Really? So their children will always be _that_ dependent for the rest of their lives? If a college football recruiter were to come and watch Sam play, he'll be glued to the boy's game!"

"Tina?" Santana arches an eyebrow. "Sam's way too old for college. Also, your I-want-to-do-something-about-it tone is not going to get you anywhere."

"And your I'm-gonna-crush-your-hopes-and-dreams tone is extremely encouraging."

"Hah. Sue can give you a triple dosage of it. Nourishing."

"What if I say, we do it the right way?"

Santana narrows her eyes. "There's only one way in Lima Autism Center. The Sue Sylvester Way."

"A workshop," says Tina, firmly.

"No shit. Those things knock me out like a baby." Santana waves her hands. "No way..."

"Listen! A workshop teaching parents how to handle the maturity of their kids. You know it takes two hands to clap and for every ounce of effort we put in to make these young adults believe in their own abilities, it needs to be reinforced with the same amount or even more at home. We don't say what they're doing is wrong, but what they can do better." Tina folds her arms. "How's that sound?"

"Oh." Santana looks away. Then she looks back at Tina and frowns. "That... actually sounds great."

And so Tina brings it up to Sue and Emma the next day. Both of them make approving noises and assign her to take charge of the project. Blaine chips in enthusiasm and ideas, while Santana offers her daily dose of sarcasm. It gets on Tina's nerves at first, but when Santana eventually dumps a stack of prototyped invitation letters with various beautiful designs for the parents on her desk, Tina can't help smiling.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tina has just finished her reports and is about to drop off the bunch of finalized invitation letters at the reception when the receptionist directs her to Sue's office instead. Feeling slightly paranoid, she tells the receptionist to hold off posting the letters till she's done meeting with Sue.

"I've already fully liaised with the panel of experts," says Tina, the moment she sits down before Sue. "They are truly supportive of this and have promised to even do follow-up liaison with any parent who wishes to know more. I think that –"

"Hold your high horse, lady," says Sue. "Are you ready to receive your imperial edict or are you going to babble your butt off in front of the empress?"

Tina raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"Well, that's the appropriate first response when sitting in that chair," says Sue, simply. Then she clasps her hands together as she looks straight at Tina. "I called you here, Tina –"

Tina stiffens.

_She just called me by my first name._

_Oh. My. God._

" –to congratulate you on a job well done on your first few months here."

_Huh?_

"As much as it's really against my conscience to feel good about anything to do with an autistic wheelchair-bound boy, the fact that he is showing significant improvements in his attitude and behavior can really be credited to your hard work." Sue nods. "Emma was telling me about how he has been focusing on other musicals and has been diligently filtering his Simon Cowell stings into Paula Abdul honey."

"He's no Paula Abdul," says Tina, laughing. "But writing his comments down does take it a notch down, yes."

"I've also been informed by Holly that Levington & Kewell's Designs have made a formal request to feature Sugar's works in a local fashion show next month. And it's interesting to note that there had been a specific note that this show would comprise both non-autistic and autistic designers, although Sugar's designs are the only one they're accepting at the moment."

Tina has trouble trying to hide her grin; not only because of the design company's recognition of Sugar's designs, but also the design company's name always made her think of how Kurt swore that one day it would be Levington & _Hummel's_ ('cos Kewell was a huge ass diva)... and eventually just _Hummel's_, of course.

"With this workshop idea, I can tell that you are not just a dedicated worker, but also someone who truly cares for these young men and women," says Sue, and her gentle voice is jarring but not entirely unpleasant. "So, I am suggesting that you expand your scope a bit and move on to another mentee."

Tina stares at Sue.

"Arthur Abrams –"

"Artie," corrects Tina, automatically.

"Well," Sue frowns, "Artie Abrams will now be focusing on his duties as director of the musical that Anderson and his team are working on, so I think there's not much that you can work on for now. Whereas I think that someone like Jacob Ben Israel needs –"

"But Miss Sylvester," says Tina. "I feel that there's a lot more that I can do with Artie. He still lacks... it's the details. Really, if I just have time to tease out..."

Sue flips through a few files, then she takes the whole stack and slams it down in front of Tina, startling her. "Miss Collie-Chang..."

"Cohen-Chang," says Tina, immediately.

"...you are a behavioral therapist who has the potential to bring these young adults to a greater level, I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from when I ask you to look into the needs of the others."

Tina feels the heat of embarrassment rise in her. "I'm sorry, Miss Sylvester, I didn't mean to –"

"Many of them don't have much time left before the society deems that their biological clock has run out of time and they are no longer productive people. Artie already has a lot on his hands that will validate him in society, that will ease his way through in the real world, where his autism, physical disability and lack of a family would have gotten him no headway."

It's arguably the most sensible speech Sue Sylvester has made, but also somehow the most offensive to Tina. She knows that Sue is right, but she can't help feeling upset that just because Artie has been given something to do, it's assumed that he is going to make it in the cruel world out there. What happened to moderating changes in their lives for the sake of their development? Artie has been progressing very while because of the consistent environment he's been given – if things change, wouldn't it make him regress?

As if to read her mind, Sue continues, "To make sure the changes aren't too drastic, you will take one hour out of your session with Artie to work with Jacob for the next two weeks. Jacob has become increasingly handsy of late – he's very sensitive to touch and keeps wanting to hold onto something, which is a regression in the independence unit. Work some of that Asian magic and prove to me you can handle diversity."

Tina knows there's no use arguing with Sue when she can't seem to find the right words to express herself, but she stays back just to type out her frustration into paragraphs of her report for the next day. In fact, she winds up staying back _every single day_ churning out paragraphs and paragraphs of material for the workshop, and reads pages and pages of research as well as Artie's and Jacob's case files.

She has the heaviest workload of all the staff members now (Santana would have shared the load, except that she has come down with a _timely_ case of rashes after Brittany presented her with a flower of unknown origin). She just doesn't have time to reciprocate Mike's dinner offers or even chip in ideas for the musical Blaine has been meticulously planning for. Worst of all, she has no energy to make Artie's sessions livelier. She ends up having to let him spend most of the time in front of the T.V. once again because her brain feels like mush.

And she feels like crap for letting that happen.

Her first session with Jacob in Therapy Room No. 1 a few days later starts off fine, and she's thankful. She's been fretting about it for a long while because she really wants to keep Jacob's hands in place with a simple reward system. However, it falls to pieces within the next half an hour when his attention starts to wander. He's no longer interested in whoever just entered the room. He's now more interested in the fact that there seem to be a lot of colors about the room.

"...deep breath and hold your fingers like this... Jacob?"

"Blue and red," says Jacob. "Purple's a great color for the sides."

"Jacob," repeats Tina, sternly. "Over here."

"I'm going to write about purple and how it's great for the eyes."

Tina has no choice but to use the visual cues; Jacob is especially spacey today. Jacob blinks as he takes in the word and picture of 'Listen', then Tina draws the card near to her and flips it down. "Jacob, are you listening?"

"Yes," he says automatically.

"Take a deep breath."

He follows instructions for a while, only to get distracted by the long silver necklace Tina is wearing.

"Purple and silver go very well," announces Jacob. Then he leans forward and reaches out to touch the necklace. Tina doesn't react in time and Jacob's fingers brush against her chest. She tries to keep calm and not overreact because he didn't mean to. But when his fingers start to wander beyond the necklace, she stands up immediately and backs away.

"Jacob! You should never touch a woman like this!" Tina can't help sounding really frustrated. From Jacob's case file, he has been taught many times never to touch a woman in the chest region, but apparently his logical mind fizzles out when his sense of touch is activated.

Jacob looks woefully at her. "I wanted to see the necklace. It's a very pretty silver. Girls like to read about necklaces."

His hands are still making little grabby motions and Tina is fairly sure if she sits down again, he will somehow reach out to touch her. For the moment, she doesn't quite know what to do.

Until a knock on the door shakes her out of her helpless state.

"_Artie?_" Tina's eyes widen.

"Go away!" Jacob says loudly. "We are having a session."

Artie's gaze is fixed on Tina. "Did he touch you?"

Tina's jaw drops. Then she recovers and shakes her head. "Artie, I'll go over to Room No. 3 soon, just wait for me there..."

Artie looks at Jacob, then back at Tina. "He touched you. He's always touching girls when they don't want to be."

"Go away!" repeats Jacob, and flicks his hand for effect.

"Were you watching us?" Tina wonders aloud, but Artie is already wheeling himself towards Jacob. Then to Tina's utmost surprise, Artie reaches out for Jacob's hands.

Even more surprisingly, Jacob complies and takes Artie's hands. Artie grips them tightly so they can't move. It almost looks like a scene out of a slapstick comedy, except that Artie starts to speak in a very serious manner,

"Jacob, before you touch people, you must ask for their permission."

Jacob stares at him.

"If they say no, then you cannot touch them. Especially girls," says Artie. "Girls are not for boys to touch unless they agree to it or are in a committed relationship with the boy."

Tina opens her mouth to say something, but Artie looks at her and she shuts it.

"Okay," says Jacob. "You're hurting me."

Artie stares down at their hands, then lets Jacob's hands go.

"I'm sorry," says Jacob to Tina, but his hands are reaching out towards her again. Tina instinctively puts out her hand to show rejection and Jacob shrinks back. His fingers are still twitching though, so Artie wheels towards a box in the corner and rummages through it.

"Artie, it's okay, I can manage this," says Tina. She looks at Jacob with her hands still outstretched and says, "Jacob, I don't like you touching me like that. We can shake hands and you can hold onto my hand or shoulder if you want to get my attention." She demonstrates promptly and Jacob mimics her. "But you cannot touch anywhere..." She gestures to her torso and bottom half of the body. "...here. It's not right and it makes me feel uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry," repeats Jacob. But Tina knows that even though he is _truly_ sorry, he can't help wanting to touch. His eyes are still concentrated on a part of her body that she'd really like to hide from him at the moment.

_Good God, Tina Cohen-Chang, you're a behavioral therapist and you're just standing there like a willow about to break..._

Artie is back with a rubber ball in his hand. He stuffs the ball into Jacob's hands before Tina can react and says calmly,

"Squeeze it."

Jacob does, and to Tina's surprise, he looks rather intrigued by the ball. He squeezes it methodically for a few more times, then gazes at Artie in wonder. "What is this?"

"A stress ball," says Artie. "It's for when you are stressed."

Jacob spends the rest of the session squeezing the ball in his hands as he answers Tina's questions. Tina is slightly worried that he will be a little too obsessed with it, but when he stuffs the ball into his pocket at the end of the session and walks off, she can't help but be a little relieved.

Artie has been in the corner all this while (she really doesn't have the energy to re-direct him outside) – _reading a book_. Tina identifies it immediately as _The Great Gatsby._

"Really?"

"What?" Artie looks confused.

"You read that?"

"I'm not reading," he clarifies, and puts the book aside.

"So if you're not reading... what were you doing?"

"I was watching."

"You were watching Jacob and I?"

Artie's eyes become a little unfocused; he turns and begins to wheel himself away.

"Artie!"

He stops. Then turns to look at her, his expression blank.

Tina can't help smiling a little. "You can be a psychologist too, you know."

Artie blinks, then the ends of his mouth quirk up before he wheels out of the room.

-.-.-.-.-.-

It will not be the only time Artie makes his way to Room No. 1 before his session with Tina.

Jacob has improved considerably given that his attention is easily directed to the stress ball which he takes out during his session. Tina figures out that because he types so much on his online blog, he gets very edgy when he has nothing to do with his fingers. When he gets distracted by something, he will want to touch it regardless of the context. She gets him to set aside time to do outdoor activities, which will teach him when and how to use his hands much more easily. Mike coordinates this perfectly and Tina feels much happier working with Jacob.

For one whole week however, Artie has been wheeling back and forth outside Room No. 1. Tina can't help noticing even though she's shut the windows because the shadow of his wheelchair beneath the door is so obvious. She's attempted to shoo him back to his own space once, but he nonchalantly adds that he was looking at the scenery.

_Yeah right, Artie Abrams, since when did you start appreciating scenery?_

Tina tries to ignore his presence and work on Jacob, but things don't really work out that perfectly when she eventually has to prepare him for her having full-time sessions with Jacob.

When she first tells him at the end of that first week, Artie just stares at her. "Does Santana take over again?"

"You'll be on your own," says Tina, gently. "But you'll be busy. The script for the musical is already out and Blaine needs you to make corrections and add your own directions for him to approve."

Tina had already read the first draft and had spent the night laughing out loud and moaning appropriately at angsty parts. It was a clever spin-off from _Great Expectations_, a back-story about the icy-cold girl whom the protagonist had fallen in love with. Tina had been completely enthralled by the plot and the lyrics were equally gripping. Once Artie's stage directions were added, it would be an amazing piece of work, she was sure of it. She couldn't spare any time to be really involved in it, but she had promised Blaine she would come down for as many rehearsals as possible.

"I'm going to do it on my own?" Artie still can't seem to believe this is happening.

"Yes, Artie. You're really good at this and you're going to make this musical amazing."

He doesn't really seem to address the issue of her not being around him anymore; she can't help feeling a tinge of disappointment at his lack of reaction but is still comforted that he is appropriately excited about his directorial debut.

At the beginning of the second week, he talks nineteen to the dozen about how he spent the entire weekend on the Internet reading up on scriptwriting and what he can correct, the various productions of _Singin' In The Rain_ and _West Side Story_ and its relevant reviews...

"You read all of that in two days?" Tina gasps. "Wow, Artie. That's really dedicated of you."

She's not just impressed with that. She's extremely amazed by how a project can transform Artie into somebody with a narrow focus to somebody who actually does _diverse research_.

This momentum is halted temporarily when Santana comes over to Room No. 3 one day with Brittany in tow complaining that she's bored and wants to go for a walk – so would Tina and Artie like to come along? Everything has been cleared with Sue, which makes Tina suspect Santana has concocted her own boredom. Artie grumbles a bit, however, and that's enough for Tina to say, "Sure!"

"Why did you agree?" Artie demands as Tina tidies up the room. "You know I don't really like the outdoors."

"All the more you should –" Tina begins.

"Because I've got her under my little thumb," calls out Santana.

"That means something else, doesn't it?" Artie asks, frowning.

Tina pumps her fist in triumph as Santana stares, open-mouthed. "Told you he's getting the hang of things. One day he'll throw those cryptic phrases back in your face with their literal meanings and you'd be bowing to him as the God of Sarcasm." To Artie, she explains, "Santana thinks I listen to everything she says. That's not true."

"But it might be," muses Artie. "She asked you to leave my room when I was sick and you did."

Santana guffaws as Tina glowers at her.

"You would have stayed, right?"

Both Tina and Santana's heads snap towards Artie.

"Are we going?" Brittany whines from outside the room. "The butterflies are all going to be melted under the sun!"

Tina ignores Santana's piercing gaze, gathers up the files and gestures to the door. "Let's go."

And they do, Artie's question never answered.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Santana and Brittany split from Tina and Artie the moment they get to the park. They move away so quickly and stealthily that Tina doesn't even know where they've headed to. With a deep sigh, she wheels Artie towards the flower gardens.

"Isn't it nice?" she says. "To come out and breathe good, fresh air?"

Artie doesn't respond; he merely gazes around.

He's observing once more.

Tina keeps quiet for the next five minutes, then eventually stops him near the rosebushes. "Are you thirsty?"

He still doesn't respond; his gaze is fixed on a couple nearby, who are teasing each other with scoops of ice-cream.

"You want ice-cream?" Tina grins.

Before Artie can respond, one-half of the couple – the man – calls out, "Hey, young man, haven't seen a love affair before?"

Tina stares at the man, then looks down at Artie, who looks confused.

"Then stop staring!" yells the man. A couple of people nearby have stopped jogging or walking just to see the commotion.

"Come on, Artie, let's just move on," mutters Tina, but Artie refuses to budge.

"Hey, lady, take your boy away, those huge-ass nerd glasses ain't covering up his old grandpa's lusty eyes!"

The woman beside him sniggers.

Tina shoots the man an icy-cold glare. "Please be more respectful. He didn't mean to."

"Oh, he didn't mean to, does he? What, he some idiot?" The man snorts. "He don't listen when you talk to him, so I suppose he is, ain't he?"

The woman now looks uncomfortable. "Darling, let's just leave."

"I'm not an idiot," says Artie, stiffly. "I'm sorry for staring, but you were wrong to call me names."

The man stares. "He really is one."

Furious, Tina moves to stand in front of Artie. "I think you've had your fill of sinful name-calling and labelling for today. Any further and you might just rot in hell, so you really should go."

"And I listen," says Artie, from behind her. "I listen to everything Tina says. I just want to finish thinking."

The man mutters something under his breath as he glares at Tina, then leaves with the woman.

"I think you're keeping your temper down really well," says Tina, as she turns back to Artie. "I would have slapped him hard if I didn't know better."

"I would have if I could reach," offers Artie.

Tina snorts. Then she grins. "I shouldn't be encouraging you, should I?"

"This is why I don't like coming out."

"It's a bright and sunny day. Let's enjoy it while we can." She raises her arms out and does a little twirl.

"Then will you sing and dance with me? It will make me feel better."

Tina stops twirling around and nearly trips over her foot. Before she knows it, he has already wheeled forward, taken her hand and started turning around. She nearly trips again, but catches herself before she can and reluctantly obliges him by pulling him towards her and pushing him out again. They do this a few more times and the cheer on Artie's face is so palpable that Tina's laughing once again.

"Everybody in this park should do this too," Artie declares.

"They should," says Tina, grinning, but she isn't prepared for what Artie does next. He breaks away from her and rolls up to a bright-eyed man with his daughter. Tina is perplexed because Artie doesn't speak; he merely moves his hands slightly. He clearly wants to say something though, but it's not coming out.

Thankfully, the cheerful man is unfazed and bends down. "You want something, young fella?"

Artie looks back at Tina, then at the man again. He's nervous.

Tina goes up and places a hand on Artie's shoulder. He relaxes slightly, then says,

"Dance." He points to the man's little girl. "Can – can she?"

"You want to dance with her?"

Artie's face lights up. "Can I?"

"Sandy, do you want to dance with this young man here? He's a charming one." The man winks at Tina just before he looks at his little girl.

"He has wheelies!" the girl exclaims. "Yes, please!"

That's how Artie ends up twirling around with the little girl. The man cheers for them, then a woman comes up from behind – his wife. Without warning, the man dips his startled wife and begins to twirl her too. The adorable couple start to dance along with Artie and Sandy, and Tina's clapping in delight. An elderly couple start to spontaneously waltz at the side too, and more and more people are gathering and cheering the little dancing troupe along. Then a few more people join in, and suddenly there's a mass dance – set to absolutely no music except for rustling leaves and footsteps and laughter.

Tina's heart swells just watching Artie be in the middle of it all, his eyes shining. He was just afraid five minutes ago that nobody likes him when he's outside, but now, _everybody loves him_. It's most obvious when the crowd starts switching partners and Artie's twirling with a freckled, braced young girl with flaming red hair.

"What the..." Santana has come up from behind with Brittany and stares in complete bewilderment.

"Y'know," says Tina, meeting Artie's delighted gaze at that very moment. "Just an average day in the park."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"I had fun today."

Tina chuckles as Artie is still phantom dancing in the room. "I can tell."

He gives her a rather shy smile, then stops dancing and moves towards the table. His clipboard is lying there in plain view, so he gets distracted by it as he flips through the papers. Then he picks it up, stares at it for a long while before proceeding to scribble down on his own analytical table for the musical.

"Artie?"

"Yes?" He stops writing.

"I will not be working with you next week," says Tina, deciding that being extremely direct might get him to respond accordingly.

_Accordingly? Tina Cohen-Chang, what kind of response are you expecting?_

Well, the according response is silence because Artie's more interested in filling up his table. She has to tip it down slightly so that he meets her gaze as she continues,

"I will be working with Jacob during these hours."

"I know," says Artie. "You told me last week."

"But..." Tina stares at him incredulously. "You're okay with it? The last time I wanted to switch with Santana for a day, you were so unhappy."

"I'm not okay," says Artie. "But I need to be. Otherwise, I won't get to do this musical. You'll be upset with me. Jacob won't improve. I weighed the benefits and the losses."

Tina is flabbergasted. "You – you did a table?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't draw it. I thought about it."

"O-okay..."

That certainly wasn't a response on the cards. Tina has absolutely no idea what to do now. Since when did Artie Abrams become so mature and start working things out so rationally in his mind? How did he progress from yelling for Rachel the moment Tina had stepped into his therapy room for the first time, to accepting a change in his schedule so calmly?

"You're very good with Jacob," says Artie. "He's much better now."

"I think you deserve some credit for that," mutters Tina.

"I think it's because you make people feel like they're understood," says Artie, matter-of-factly. "I feel comfortable talking to you because you don't make me feel stupid or crazy or anything that people think autistic people are."

"That's very sweet of you, Artie."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Tina has to literally cup her chin to stop her jaw from dropping. "Excuse me?"

"You need to stop making me repeat my questions," says Artie, his voice now laced with annoyance. "I asked, do you have a boyfriend?"

"Umm..."

_Nope. Yeah, even though some super-nice guy often sends you flowers and takes you out on dinner dates. No pressure. Not a date at all._

"Is there a reason why you're asking me this question?" asks Tina, slowly. "It's a very personal question."

"I'm sorry," says Artie, immediately. "I was just curious. As I said, you make people feel understood. You're a nice girl."

His hands are fidgeting though, and Tina knows it's a sure sign that he wants to say something but can't seem to express himself. So she hums "Singin' In The Rain" in hope to calm him down.

Finally, he says quietly, "It's very strange. I think this is what it feels like, but I'm not sure and it's very strange to ask you about it."

"Ask... what?"

"Whenever I want to say something, I feel funny in the tummy, like here," he points to the exact spot, "and my heartbeat becomes faster. I can hear it pumping in my ears."

"Are you ill?" Tina is alarmed.

"I feel like I want to smile more. Sometimes it's because I'm happier, sometimes it's because it makes other people happier."

Tina is seriously confused at this point. "That... that's great, Artie. It's good to be happy."

"But I don't always feel this way."

He hesitates, then looks straight at her.

"Do people feel this way when they are... attracted to somebody?"

Tina's eyebrows shoot up immediately. Artie is looking rather frustrated, so she has to answer him. "Quite often, yes. So who makes you feel this way?"

The way his eyes widened slightly when she asked that made her regret leading him up to this point. She should have seen it coming. She should have known when he had asked that first question.

_Damn it, Tina!_

"You."

Her palms feel clammy. This is what everybody has been warning her about. This is what she had convinced herself would never happen – and has happened.

"I have a boyfriend."

_Really? That's the first thing you say? How about letting him down – gently?_

"Artie, you are my mentee," says Tina, although her tongue feels thick and her words feel garbled. "I care for you because it's my job. Maybe what you're experiencing is commonly known as..." She can't help blushing. "...a crush."

"It feels heavy," Artie concurs. "Have I been crushed by something then?"

Tina winces. "A crush is... an attraction to somebody at a certain point in time. It... happens very quickly and is usually based on... just very simple, erm, superf- I mean, like appearances, or that the person has been very concerned about you. Well, erm –"

She takes a deep breath. "Artie, we don't know each other well enough. I only see what is written on your reports and what I see on a daily basis, but you might be a different person inside your dorm room. You only see the side of me that's here for my work, that's here to help every one of you in this center, but you don't know who I really am. So this is just a crush, please don't take it seriously – because _you can't_."

Artie isn't looking at her anymore. He's just staring at the wall, his lips moving subtly without sound.

"Artie?" Tina bends down to his eye level. "Artie, look at me. Tell me what you feel."

"I'm tired," he says quietly. "Can I go back to my room early?"

"Of course you can," says Tina, but tears are coming to her eyes. "Artie, don't be sad, okay? I'm still your therapist, your – your friend. You can still talk to me."

"Not today," is all he says, before his customary "Goodbye".

Once he's gone, Tina sits down by the table, head in her hands.

To think that things had been going quite well with her switch to Jacob.

She lets out a frustrated growl, but doesn't let herself sit still for long. Right now, she needs to get back to her report, finish it and go home. She can think about all this tomorrow.

It's just that the universe doesn't let her shove those thoughts aside. At the end of the day, she meets Mike and they have a chat and _somehow_, there is that awkward pause in a conversation which Tina _knows_ is going to lead to something. All the flowers and dates had to taper to a single point of resolution.

Sure enough, it does.

Tina has dated once or twice, casually, in high school. Both started with awkward conversations too, but often she's so touched by their declarations of attraction (not love, she insists) that she'll cry. This time, she can't tell if it's because she's older or that she's just too damn distracted by Artie's earlier confession, but...

Mike's confession goes by in a blur.

What remains is the sincerity and hope in his eyes. That alone touches her, and she opens her mouth to say 'yes'.

She can't.

All that comes out is, "Could you give me some time to think about it? Mike, it's not about you, it's me. You're an absolutely wonderful guy and I really want to give this some thought because... because I want to take anything between us seriously."

Mike immediately understands and smiles brightly, telling her she can take all the time she needs.

Why couldn't she have been more eloquent, like this, in front of Artie? That would have saved her all the distraction and worry.

She knows the answer, but she's afraid to say it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Mercedes?" Tina clutches the phone as she curls up on her bed in comfy PJs. "I'm in some big-time deep shit."

"Whoa," says Mercedes, on the other end. "That sounds serious. What's up, homegirl?"

"Umm... Mike just told me he liked me."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Tina has to hold the phone away from her ear as Mercedes yelps. "THAT'S AWESOME NEWS! Lady, it's about _damn_ time! That boy's been having heart eyes for you all the while, if those pretty roses and romantic dinners are anything to go by."

"They're just gestures, Mercedes..."

"Wait, hoooold up. Don't tell me you're stringing that boy along, 'cos you seemed well into him."

"I'm not! I think he's the perfect gentleman! And... and he does make me feel something. Nice."

"So what's this deep shit you're purportedly in, huh? Looks more like a clear, shining infinity pool to me."

"But..."

"You got yourself some good lads before, Tina Cohen-Chang, but that was high school and those just break up with a little fall. Maybe you're scared of those falls, but with all that cooing you did previously, this Mike guy sounds like he'd catch you before you fall, so there's no break in sight. I say just go for it."

"You haven't even met him yet and you're singing his praises?"

"Well... Kurt and I might have seen him before..."

"No, I'm pretty sure you – wait a minute." Tina sits up straight. "Oh. My. God. Have you been _stalking_ us?"

"We were just having a dinner at Breadstix! We just – you know, happened to be there." Mercedes stifles a giggle. "He even helps you cut up your meat! That kind of guy is an endangered species and you know it."

Mercedes rattles on about little details of the dinner, as well as other things that she and Kurt have noticed about Tina since she's been going out with Mike ("...smiling more! And even more giggly, which makes Kurt thinks your coffee is getting spiked"). But Tina still doesn't have an answer. She's not even sure what kind of advice or answer she's looking out for; she just feels unsettled. When she hangs up, she is tempted to call someone else.

Santana would only make snarky comments along the lines of "I-told-you-so" and tell her to bang Mike Chang immediately to take her mind off anything else, while Kurt would be half the crudeness and three times the snark.

That's how Tina finds herself in a late-night diner with Blaine.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

Tina sticks her spoon into her ice cream and stares at it.

"It's going to turn into a cream puddle if you don't eat it now."

She lifts her head to look wearily at Blaine, smiling hopefully at her as he asks, "Ready to spill your troubles?"

"No. But I'll have to, won't I?"

Blaine's smile disappears. "Tina, what's wrong?"

His concerned voice erases all of the jubilance of Mercedes' voice and the positive thoughts she's tried to drum up in the past few hours. She hangs her head and sighs loudly.

Then she tells him. How she's been really touched by Mike's little gestures and how she would love to be in a relationship with such a caring and genuine guy. Yet, she's so distracted by her daily work and she really wants to get everything done perfectly – the workshop, the individuals... Artie. Artie, who has made her see hope in her job, the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel that many special needs educators find hard to see. Artie, who has put a smile on her face with his efforts countless times, as much as he has made her cry at the end of the day because he just won't listen.

Artie, who makes her feel like she's doing something right in her life and spurs her to do more, even though her aims have always been fairly mediocre and easily contented with.

And Artie, who has somehow – in the midst of all this – become attracted to her and made things absolutely, disastrously complicated.

Blaine gives her an appropriately sympathetic look. He stirs his ice cream float, then asks, "You seem to be rather taken aback by Artie getting attached to you pretty quickly. Did the kids you worked with before not exhibit similar characteristics?"

"But they were kids," Tina protests.

"And you didn't expect adults to form romantic attractions?"

Tina hangs her head. "I feel like I'm not walking the talk. I always talk about seeing the autistic people as any other person, just with special abilities, attitudes, personalities, actions... but deep down inside, I'm still the therapist and he's still my – my _patient_, in a way."

"It's okay to see them as friends," says Blaine. "And I know you see Artie as one."

"Then where do you draw the line?" Tina asks, helplessly. "I thought I had it cleanly outlined, but it just seems further and further away!"

Blaine sips his float, then looks kindly at Tina. "You know that it's much easier to coach children than adults in many things, right? Not just autistic people, even people like you and me. It's easier to learn when you're young. The fact that you've managed to spark so many changes in Artie is truly commendable, Tina. The way he's opened himself up to so many more possibilities, adapting himself to changes... Rachel would have been stunned by his progress. All of us are, and that's why Sue asked you to work your magic with the others because it's been so long since we managed to get Artie to do anything else except for watching _West Side Story_ or just stoning by himself."

"Thank you," whispers Tina. "There's a catch somewhere, isn't there?"

Blaine smiles faintly. "Your work has also led him to take several steps outside of his social comfort zone. Maybe not during mass games, but at least he's conversing with you about things other than musical theater. He's responding appropriately on many occasions and when I met him for the music session a few weeks back, he was really adept at offering his opinion. I really enjoyed his insights."

He leans forward. "But you do know that Artie's insights are drawn from his amazing observational skills too, don't you? And that he actually applies those skills to real life – the people he meets, the things they do... he's actually really concerned about that."

"I know," says Tina, woebegone. "You should have seen him at the park today. He was so incredible. One moment, he's being hated on, one moment he draws on that to connect to others and turns the whole place into a freakin' dance floor. Not only does he attempt to overcome his social awkwardness, he's showing others that he's so much beyond a chair, that it's just a part of him. After a while, all the things that sets him apart from you and me becomes invisible!"

Blaine doesn't comment; he just sips his drink.

"That's why it's so hard to draw the line." Tina leans back in her seat. "It's so hard when he says things like 'you can dance well' – he knows when I'm hurt he compares me to Rachel, so he tries to make me feel better. Isn't that insane?"

"Not at all. Artie's really perceptive and I think he cares for people more than he lets on."

Tina lets out a frustrated noise. "Blaine, you're not helping."

"I'm telling you the reality," says Blaine. "Everybody's going to tell you to pick Mike, but I'm here to help you understand how Artie thinks and then you can work on dealing with it better."

"No one will _really_ know how he thinks!"

"Well, he did tell you how he felt."

"And then? Does he know what comes after that kind of confession? Was he expecting me to reciprocate it?"

"He did ask you if you had a boyfriend. I think he mentally prepared himself."

Tina looks at Blaine incredulously. "Do you really think that?"

"And do you not?" counters Blaine. "Listen to yourself, Tina. Why are you being so skeptical about the whole thing? And then – if you've already decided that Artie is going to treat a relationship functionally rather than emotionally, and that's not your cup of tea, then why are you even having a dilemma? If he's not going to function the same way as us, why would you be so concerned that he's upset?"

"Because he is!"

"And so?"

"Blaine, I wish it was that simple. I wish I could just say – look, he's autistic, he's never going to see things the way I do. Period. But – but it's precisely because what he does and what he says and how he looked when I told him I have a boyfriend... it just makes me think otherwise!"

"So you're convincing yourself that he isn't normal when you don't actually think that way."

Tina gives Blaine a helpless look.

Blaine shrugs. "I thought I might get a thanks for summing all that up for you."

When Tina lies in bed that night, she can still feel the frustration bubbling up inside her. She wants to push it away and just stick with what makes the most sense because right now, her conscience is interfering.

_It feels like pity. It's like – you know he can do many things like most people can and you want to believe that. You think rejecting him is going to break his heart and you don't want that for him._

_But Tina, it's impossible._

_Professionalism_, she thinks. That's the best reason. That fine line has to be established somehow and she's establishing it now.

She stuffs a pillow on top of her face and tries to think of Mike's hand on hers at Breadstix and how it made her heart flutter.

She relaxes with a deep sigh. _You know the answer, Tina._

_You know it._

-.-.-.-.-.-

The next morning, Tina gets up to a very nice breakfast of cereal and croissants made by her mother.

"I could have this for breakfast every day," Tina announces.

Her mother laughs as she wipes the tabletop. "Glad you like it." She hesitates for a bit, before saying, "I met Mike Chang's mother yesterday at the community center."

Tina's spoon hits the cereal bowl with a clank. "You met Mike's mother?"

"Well, we were signing up for the same cookery class... and just started chatting. Then the topic went to our kids and I found out her son works at the Autism Center too."

Tina gulps. "O-okay." _Awkward._

Tina's mother looks at her intently. "She's under the impression that the two of you are dating. Is that true?"

"What? No! We just... we just go out," says Tina, knowing that her face must be flaming red. "Although... he did ask me to be his girlfriend yesterday."

Her mother squeals like a little ten-year-old girl and rushes forward. "What did you say?"

"I said I needed time."

The expression on her mother's face changes immediately to that of annoyance. "Why? Tina, it's been ages since you last hung out with a boy. This man looks like a good one, and he comes from a good family too."

"And how would you know that?"

"Great question, because the answers are not coming from you," her mother shoots back. "You're always talking about your work and the people you deal with, but you hardly ever talk about Mike. I only know because you seem so happy talking on the phone with him."

Neither mother nor daughter say anymore, but Tina is pretty sure that's not the ideal start to her morning.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Jacob is down with gastric pains that day, so Tina is faced with Artie. For the first time, she feels like telling Sue that she really doesn't want to work with him, but that would be extremely unprofessional. Ignoring the problem would also be really rude and insensitive towards Artie, so she decides to talk about it. She has to make sure he's okay, after all.

She hands him _The Great Gatsby_ while he picks his fingers by the table. "It's a good book, isn't it?"

He looks up at her and blinks obviously.

"Who's Gatsby's love interest?"

"Daisy," he says immediately.

"You've read the book!" Tina accuses.

"Yes. A few years ago."

Tina completely shoves the whole relationship issue aside as she stares at Artie in wonder. "You amaze me every single time, Artie Abrams. We all thought you've been immersed in _West Side Story_ when you've actually been reading?"

"If I watched _West Side Story_ every day, the count would be three million, six hundred and forty-two times."

"You were bored watching it?"

"I didn't have a therapist for three months in 2005. They let me be alone and do what I want, so I stayed in my room and read the book."

"Did you read any other book?"

Artie's a little distracted with the book in his hands once he's flipped it open, so Tina has to extract it from him carefully as she repeats her question.

"Yes."

Through a short conversation, Tina realizes Artie is actually quite the bookworm. He may have been obsessed with musicals, but he is somehow comfortable with reading in the absence of a musical film to watch. He's very specific with what kind of film he wants to watch and how he goes about giving his feedback, but he's less specific outside of his obsession and reads everything from fiction to non-fiction. But he doesn't talk about it nor will he read the book again.

_He never really ceases to surprise me every single time. What we think we know often turns inside out to reveal more._

"_You have been in every line I have ever read_," says Artie.

"Excuse me?"

"_You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here. The rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then."_

Artie continues, "_You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes..."_

Light dawns upon Tina at the word 'marshes'.

_"...in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets..."_

"'Great Expectations,'" Tina whispers.

"It's a long quote," says Artie. "I only remembered up till there."

"That's... pretty impressive already." Her palms are clammy once again. "And that's how you think you're attracted to me?"

"No."

That just makes her highly confused. "Did you read it on the Internet then?"

"No."

"_West Side Story_, maybe? Maria and Tony are rather dramatic with their emotions."

"No."

Tina pauses, before asking slowly, "Then how do you think you know... you like me?"

"My parents," Artie says without missing a beat.

"Your parents?"

Artie's eyes glaze over; he's faraway in thought and Tina feels like it's sacrilegious to break that train of thought. Eventually, he comes back when she touches him lightly on the arm, but there is a tinge of sadness in his eyes. Artie's expression is often blank, so for a shred of emotion to appear, there is a tug at heartstrings.

"They take care of each other," he explains. "They hug one another when they're happy or unhappy. It makes them feel good, I think. They hold hands and say nice things to one another every day. They make each other believe that tomorrow will be a better day."

It's been so many years since his parents were alive, but Artie clearly remembers every single detail.

"That's absolutely sweet," whispers Tina.

"Aren't we like that too?" Artie turns those sad eyes on her.

"Artie..." She wishes that her voice doesn't crack, but it does anyway. "Those are gestures that... can be interpreted in many ways."

His sadness gives way to a rather angry scowl. "That's confusing. I hate this. I hate that there are so many ways to interpret actions. I see it this way but you won't. You see it one way and I won't. That's stupid and ridiculous."

Tina has to smile despite the tears. "Yes, it is stupid and ridiculous. But..."

"I don't see things the way other people do."

"That can be a blessing too."

"No!" His jaw is set hard and his fingers curl in. "No, I don't see it."

"Listen, Artie, I know you've been trying very hard and everybody sees your improvement. People do see what you can do and they're willing to wait for you to show them who you really are and what you're capable of. You may not see things the same way they do the first time, but they'll be happy to teach you, to guide you..."

"But I don't want to see it their way! This is my life!" Artie retorts. "I am the director of my life, am I not?"

Tina is taken aback. "Yes, but –"

Artie continues ranting, "And everyone can have a girlfriend but me because I can't do things for her like everybody else can. I can't walk side by side with her. I can't hold her hand properly unless she bends down. I can't say the right things. I can't go to a play and make her happy because I say stupid things and she'll be angry with me."

The last bit almost makes Tina stop breathing.

"I can't have a girlfriend," he says, then shakes his head. "I can't."

Tina is pretty sure he only sounds so matter-of-fact about it because that's just the way he speaks. If the emotion could shine through, it would most definitely ring of resignation.

"Artie, please don't –"

"I can't!" He stares at the wall. "Go away."

"Artie, you can have one. Someday, you will find someone –"

"Go away, please!"

"Artie, I will not have you feeling sorry for yourself!" All of a sudden, Tina finds the strength in her voice. "You're so much more than that! You think you're different? But _everyone_ is different! You should make use of your difference as your strength! Don't you remember how all the people at the park loved the way you wanted to dance and _did so_ even though you're in a wheelchair? The fact that you want to do things your own way makes you such a great director, because you have opinions – opinions that matter! Right now, you should stop feeling sorry about your lack of a love life and focus on achieving your dreams of becoming a director and making that musical a hell of a show for everyone to see that you, Artie Abrams, are not just different, but special – someone _extraordinary_!"

She has to take a deep breath after that speech, but it comes out more like heaving as she glares at him. He's wide-eyed and she's not even sure if he registered all of that since she sounded like a bullet train.

This time it's not Artie who leaves the room first. Tina stomps out with her bag and materials firmly tucked under her arm, and heads straight for the office.

Sue is standing by the reception handing files over to Santana, and both of them are quite surprised by the way Tina storms into the office.

"If Jacob doesn't come back tomorrow, I'll be taking Sam Evans," says Tina, forcefully. "Artie will be on his own from now on; he'll just work with Blaine on the musical. I won't be taking him anymore."

Sue raises a skeptical eyebrow. "And what made you –"

"You were right," says Tina, even though she wants to yell at Sue for being right. "There are others who need help, others who truly _want_ to be helped and I've been neglecting their needs. I'll make sure that's corrected. Now I need to finish up Artie's report, if you'll excuse me."

She strides past them, back to her desk and sits down hard. Santana follows after, an incredulous expression on her face.

"Did that bee sting you in the booty?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh you damn well know," says Santana, and she pulls her chair over. "He's drawn blood real deep. Spew your guts out, woman, what's made you ditch the brolly-man?"

The word 'ditch' conjures the notion of relationships that Tina _really_ doesn't want to revisit now. She opens Artie's file in vehemence and begins typing furiously.

"Have you fallen for him?" comes the softly-spoken question loaded with skepticism, awkwardness and worry.

Tina stops typing.

Santana lets out a groan.

"No, it's not like that!" Tina huffs as she turns around. "I just don't want to hurt him, that's all."

Santana is wide-eyed. "What. Happened?"

When Tina doesn't say anything, Santana gasps theatrically. "_He_ fell for _you_, didn't he? Oh sweet lady Chang, what honeyed pollen vibes you give!"

Tina gives her a death-glare.

"I could bring up the whole Rachel-Finn-Jesse story again, but as your good friend, once again, I will spare you the details," says Santana, in a most benevolent voice, "and just tell you that I totally saw it coming."

Tina rolls her eyes. "You're a great, helpful _friend_. Thanks."

"You do know that even if you did fall for Artie, while it's extremely unprofessional and could be quite confusing, it's not actually a morally bad thing?"

Tina throws up her hands. "Are you even listening to me, Santana Lopez? I said –"

Santana raises her hands too. "I'm just saying."

Tina slaps her hands down back on her lap.

"I mean, Rachel chose to run away from it. She found Jesse and decided to leave this place so she could leave behind the thought of Finn. I think Mikey boy would jump off a cliff for you given his adoration, so you know, you could technically do the same."

"I'm not exploiting Mike's attraction to me, thank you very much," snaps Tina. "And I _like_ him."

"Now to be really serious," says Santana. "As a therapist, while it's all good and dandy to care for your mentee, it's also important that you separate yourself from his feelings as well. If you must hurt them for him to move on, then just do it. And when you have chosen to let go, _let go_. Now that you're working with Jacob full-time, don't you dare go back and find Artie and try to think of ways to make his life better. Once you slip into caring for him again, you're going to find it very hard to desensitize yourself to anything he does."

"Isn't that quite heartless?"

Santana makes an exasperated noise. "Girl, you're dealing with autistic adults. You're going to give a workshop on it, for heaven's sake. I'm sure it's like 101 with regards to the level of emotional involvement autistic adults have compared to kids. It's like all bottled up and magnified in them because they don't always have the appropriate outlets to express these feelings. I'm sure you know how Artie expresses himself."

"Music," replies Tina, instantly. "Directing."

"Yes, so he's going to focus on those two areas. Isn't that good? And you can just focus on getting your job done and getting paid for it." Santana folds her arms. "Problem solved."

Tina cracks a small smile. "Thanks, Santana."

"Aunty Tanny always gives the best advice," replies Santana, and she goes back to her desk.

_When you have chosen to let go, let go._

So she does.

She works with Jacob the next day and is pleased to note that he's trying his best to divert his handsy attention onto the stress ball. She purposely wore the silver necklace to monitor his progress. It's all good. Except that when she goes to the ladies, she has to pass by Room No. 3.

She can't help but peek in.

Artie is watching _The Phantom of the Opera_, another of the tapes she had given him. He's scribbling things down on the clipboard in the usual focused way, with his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a straight line. Tina tears herself away from the window and makes her way to the ladies, but she can't help being curious about what he has written for that show since it's the first time she's seen him watch it.

At the end of the day, Tina goes back to Room No. 3 to see the clipboard placed neatly on the table. To her surprise, instead of an analysis table on the paper, Artie has written a cast list. She half-expects to see a fully-copied version of the cast list on the tape's information sheet, only to realize that Artie has cast _himself_ as the Phantom, _Tina_ as Christine... and _Tina's boyfriend_ as Raoul.

Tina sits down hard.

_You're not the Phantom, Artie._

But she knows why he chose to be the Phantom. The sad, lonely Phantom who craved love and acceptance and unloaded his dreams onto his love Christine, only to be rejected by her for a handsome, _normal_ young man.

_It's also important that you separate yourself from his feelings as well. If you must hurt them for him to move on, then just do it._ Santana's voice echoed in her head once again.

"You are the one who gives the lessons, Tina," she says to herself sternly. "You are the one who makes sure he gets to the next stage in his life, not the other way round. Focus, Tina, focus!"

With that, she goes to finish up her report on Jacob, then after texting Mike, waits patiently at the school gates for him.

"Hey!" Mike jogs up to the gates ten minutes later. "Sorry, I still need to stay back to finish some workplans. Anything important?"

Tina looks at him, then reaches out to take his hand.

Mike stares at her in wonder. Then a hopeful look emerges. "Tina?"

"Yes," says Tina. "Yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

Mike's eyes widen, then breaks out into a huge beam. "Tina! Do – do you mean it?"

Tina draws him into a hug, and he clutches at her tightly. She breathes in his scent and relaxes in his embrace. "Yes... yes, I do. Mike... you're a wonderful man and you make me so, _so_ happy."

He really does. That's why Mercedes and Kurt tease her about being so chirpy ever since she started going out with Mike, or that her mom says she's been so happy on the phone with him.

Mike pushes his workplans aside and takes her out to a romantic dinner with flowers, ending the date with a soft kiss that still lingers on her lips as she tucks herself into bed that night.

_Let go._

The following week, she holds the three-day workshop with Santana. The turnout is immense, with many parents, educators and psychologists taking their seats before her. There is a panel of autism and psychology experts who share tips on how to manage autistic adults and offer shining examples of those who have made it big, but Tina has made sure that their main message corresponds with her conclusion.

"We all hold onto a belief that autism is merely an obstacle in their lives, that sometimes it may even be a booster for them to achieve things that no one else can. On most days, this belief seems invisible and no matter how many times we psyche ourselves to stick by it, we just want to walk away and say it's impossible. My child, this boy or girl, this young man or young woman, will always be different from other people and no matter what they get in life, it's like a pity token. Sometimes, you even feel like the pity token's for you rather than for them. But like what I told my mentee, everybody in this world is different. Are you going to sit there and lament the fact that it's hindering you or are you going to use that difference to _make a difference_?"

Tina smiles. "It's easy to say, huh? I'm just another one of those therapists who are trying to instill hope in you. But no, my purpose is not to make you feel better. My purpose is to make you _want_ to make _them_ feel better. To make them feel that the only difference they have compared to other people is simply the difference between you and me. The differences amongst human beings. Apart from encouraging them verbally, we have to act it out. We let them take charge of their lives. Start by asking your child, your patient, your mentee – what is it that they want? Is it that impossible to let them work towards that goal?"

Tina draws in a deep breath. "When I first came here, my mentee was obsessed with musical theatre films. He refused to watch anything else but _West Side Story_. He called for his previous therapist and refused to listen to me."

All the memories of Artie facing the wall, wheeling himself back and forth, his eyes glued to the T.V. and his signature scowl come rushing back to her.

"But when he slowly realized that I wasn't there just to tell him that he could be a good director next time. I made sure he became one. I made sure he got the chance to do it and when I believed in him, he started believing in himself too. He started seeing things from different angles and began to open his mind to other things, opportunities."

She takes a poster that the musical's artistic director, a fourteen-year-old girl with Asperger's, had churned out the day before and displays it to everyone. "Artie is now the overall director of this upcoming musical 'Estella', an original production, a spin-off from the classic novel _Great Expectations_. My colleagues Blaine and Nessie are the scriptwriters and are co-producing this with Artie, the composer is Zoe Lance and lyricist Matt Griebson, both of whom are also autistic. The musical will be held in the Lima Town Hall and tickets are priced at twenty dollars each and will go to the charity for autistic children."

The image of Artie standing on the stage receiving his standing ovation comes to her as she continues, "As much as I'm doing promotion for this musical and the people involved, I am also showing you that this is what happens when you truly, honestly believe in those that you care for. This is what _they can do_."

Tina can see Santana in the corner, hands held up to her cheeks as she watches. Blaine is in the other corner, a tiny smile playing at the edge of his lips. Sue is in the front row, her head bobbing in agreement.

_This is what we can do for them, and this is what they can do._


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

* * *

Tina keeps to her conviction by staying away from Room No. 3 for the next few weeks. Whenever Artie passes by, she just gives him a firm smile and a 'Hi' before walking steadfastly on. She does it so often that Artie doesn't even look at her anymore when she sees him around. She's not quite sure whether that's a good thing, but she does feel slightly hurt. When you distance yourself from anybody for long, let alone an autistic person who has adapted to a new routine, it's possible that they might forget you and forget how it feels to be around you. She doesn't want Artie to forget her, even though she feels like that's the only way to put distance between them.

She decides to stay away from the musical rehearsals (and is appropriately apologetic towards Blaine), but still keeps track of the musical's progress (and indirectly, Artie) through Blaine's lunchtime stories about how everything's falling into place. They have started rehearsals a few days ago and Blaine says that Artie had some trouble expressing himself at the beginning, but it seems like it's all working out (and Tina needn't worry, to which she responds that she doesn't need to).

Jacob starts to speak more without moving his hands as much and starts to maintain better eye contact than usual, so Tina's reports only get more and more positive. She wishes she can feel a lot better about it, but it seems that there's a problem... _elsewhere._

Artie had been sullen for two mass games sessions in a row and Emma wasn't having him sitting in a corner watching everyone anymore. The third week that he had wheeled himself to the corner, she confronts him about it. What she says exactly, Tina has no idea. But it sure didn't make Artie look very happy. Instead, he turns around and faces the wall. Emma straightens up and shoots Tina a helpless look.

Tina _really_ doesn't want to interact with Artie, but at the rate things are going, it looks like she has to do something about it. She rolls her eyes and walks over, her hands on her hips.

"Artie Abrams, what are you up to?"

Emma retreats while Artie continues to face the wall in silence.

Tina forcefully turns his wheelchair around and is met with a furious glare. She hasn't seen Artie so angry in a while and it makes her insides twist every time she sees that expression.

"You said I'm independent," growled Artie. "Let me do my own things."

"Facing the wall is incredibly productive," says Tina, even though she knows he's not going to catch the sarcasm well.

To her surprise, he says, "Yes, it is."

She's not sure whether he is saying that because he really thinks he is, or if he's in a bad mood, or that he's throwing the irony back at her. The fact that she never really knows what goes on in his head makes her frustrated and she has to take several deep breaths to calm _herself_ down.

"Didn't I tell you not to feel sorry for yourself?" Tina manages to sound even.

"But I am sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Tina's voice comes out breathy.

He doesn't respond, so she has to squat and look upwards at his face. He turns away, but she holds up a finger.

"Don't make me turn your head, Artie," she warns.

He turns his head of his own accord and glares at her. "I'm sorry for not playing. But I'm really not interested today."

"You haven't been interested in weeks."

"I'm just tired. The musical is stressful."

"Blaine says you're doing very well. You're on your way to creating a wonderful project, Artie."

"It's fun," he concedes.

"That's great," says Tina. Then inexplicably, she feels like smiling. "That's really, really great."

He looks confusedly at her. "Why are you smiling?"

Tina's smile dissipates. "You're enjoying yourself. That's a good thing."

His eyes widen. Then he seems to be thinking hard, before he says quietly, "Will you come to our rehearsal?" His eyes now harbor a tinge of hope. "It would be nice."

The fact that he needs validation from her warms her to the tips of her toes. Yet, she knows that if she obliges him, he'd be expecting to see her every single rehearsal. The last thing she wants is for him to expect anything from her.

"I'm really busy," says Tina. "I'll see if I can come some day."

Artie seems to accept that answer as his face brightens up a bit.

"Artie, mass games are a great practice for working with people." She's said this before, but she feels like it needs to be drilled in him once again. "You may be comfortable with your cast members and crew, but what if somebody falls sick or can't perform any more? Somebody new might come in, and it might make you feel very uncomfortable. You don't like other people changing the dynamics of your musical, do you?"

"No," says Artie, immediately.

"So, will you try? Even if you're in a bad mood. It might put you into a good mood too."

When Artie doesn't argue, Tina wheels him towards the circle. Emma takes over and continues introducing the game to everyone. Artie doesn't look back at Tina; he participates, albeit not very enthusiastically. She leaves the game halfway to help Sue with plans for an upcoming workshop. When mass games are over, Emma comes to thank Tina for helping her get Artie back into the fold. Tina brushes it off and says Emma did well in holding his attention.

_He'll do fine without me. He's doing fine in the musical. This is just a once-off._

Mike and her have dinner dates on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays (the rest are his family dinner nights). On Saturdays, they take turns to choose an activity to do, like picnicking or sunbathing or a movie. Mike tells her about his life, how his parents have always wanted him to be a doctor or a lawyer and how he had sneaked off to sign his own contract with a dance company when he was done with high school. His father nearly disowned him, so out of filial piety, he decided to pursue a sports therapy degree that fairly alleviated his parents' worries and stayed in Lima to work in the Autism Center.

It's all romantic and sweet; he drives her out, he holds her hand, he's candid about himself and promises never to withhold secrets from her. Mercedes and Kurt both swoon when Tina talks about their dates, and even Santana gives her a nudge and wink every time Mike walks by her desk and surreptitiously leaves a note or a flower.

The problem is, Tina's no ordinary girl. She's touched by Mike's gestures but she feels awkward every time he opens the car door for her or spends constantly on dinners and flowers. She's tried telling him that she'd rather go to a burger diner or eat Chinese in her room and have a conversation about people around them, but Mike merely teases about the calories in the food and the bitching sessions they'll have.

It's the same every week.

She tries to tell him about her life. She, too, had dreams to become an actor, a singer – musical theatre would be the best fit.

"Is that why you're so interested to help Artie?" asks Mike. "Or maybe that's why they picked you. And Rachel."

"I'm sure that 'dreams' don't exactly feature much in my CV," says Tina, with a laugh. "But it does make it easier to connect with him."

"Is it hard?" Mike looks at her intently. "Not working with him anymore? You're always observing him during mass games."

Tina stares at him.

"Don't look so surprised to know that your boyfriend is checking you out," says Mike, with a wink.

But what makes Tina surprised is that she's been watching Artie – that often. That intensely, that Mike can even notice it. What was all that about letting go? Artie knows very well when she observes him; keeping him tethered by her gaze isn't going to help him break that 'attraction' he has.

"So... you did community theater and stuff?"

"A bit."

"Your parents were okay with it?"

"I think my parents would rather me work at a theater where the boss is a friend of my dad's, rather than at the Center..."

"...where the boss is pretty much a bitch?" Mike grinned.

"Something like that."

Mike's grin fades. "You aren't very happy here, are you?"

"If this is about the time I cried about work, it was just _one time_, I assure you."

One time, out of sheer exhaustion, she broke down in the middle of their date and he was so alarmed. Once she starts, she takes _ages_ to stop. Mike held her and whispered encouraging words into her ear, but somehow she just couldn't stop and it made her even more frustrated.

"If you say so."

Mike hesitates for a while before he says, "Tina, I'm right here for you. You don't have to bottle up everything."

It's not that she wants to. It's that she doesn't really know how to phrase whatever's bugging her. She also doesn't really want to discuss it with Mike, of all people, so she just shakes her head with a smile.

Part of the burden is lifted however, when Emma finds her one day with a bright beam lacing her delicate features.

"I took Artie today for an hour," says Emma, excitedly. "And he says he wants to learn directing."

Tina arches a skeptical eyebrow. "Um, isn't he already...?"

"No, I mean, _properly_," Emma clarifies. "He wants to _study_ it."

Both of Tina's eyebrows shoot up this time.

"He also says that he knows it's usually a postgraduate degree, so in the meantime, he will study theater design and production because he thinks it's something he can improve on in terms of knowledge, and maybe even a finance program if he can get it because he thinks helping people with bills and investments is a good thing!" Emma clutches at Tina's sleeves. "Did you hear that? Oh my God, I was so _shocked_! But in a good way, I mean, it's just that Artie has never ever voluntarily spoken to us about anything, let alone his _future_, and in such detail! I thought you'd like to know, because really, I think his amazing transformation was due to you and –"

Tina's mind is in a whirl as she tries to process whatever Emma has said. A Masters' in directing? And in the meantime, a degree in theater design and production with a finance minor of some sorts?

He was taking that step forward.

"...told Sue about it," continues Emma, her eyes shining. "You can bet your bottom dollar that that young man is going places. Sue is absolutely, one hundred percent behind him, and we will probably be able to work out college admissions and all for him."

Tina takes some time to compose herself, before she whispers, "That's incredible, Emma."

Emma nods vigorously. "I'll need your help with some of the admissions though, if you don't mind. I think you coaching him through writing his resumes and essays would be a much better –"

"Must I?" Tina hates herself for sounding so weak.

Emma looks alarmed. "I told Sue that you'd be helping and she insists that you should, too. Please do it, I don't think I could really get the same results with Artie and we all want the best for him." She leans forward a little. "Right?"

"Yeah," is all Tina can say.

"Great!" Emma claps her hands together. "Of course, he'll be working on the musical here first, but we figured it's best to get everything in full swing so he can have something to look forward to once he's done with his directing."

"Sure," says Tina, hoarsely.

Emma continues to chat a bit more about what she has heard about the musical and how _exciting_ it sounds, and how the media is planning to do a big showcase on it and all of that. Tina's mind is far away from that, however – it has launched itself a few years ahead.

But the visions in her mind dissipate and are replaced by new ones when just before Emma leaves, she adds,

"Oh, and Artie has specifically requested that he wants to study in LA. So maybe we can try looking at the colleges there first."

_LA? Out of Ohio?_

_Alone?_

Tina returns to her desk in a daze. She's really, really happy that Artie's mapping out his future, but at the same time, she's filled with dread and worry.

_Tina, you want him to be independent – that's what you tell all the parents, not to have their child dependent on them! Why're you not walking the talk?_

She never really walked the talk when it came to Artie, anyway.

Santana comes to inform her that Jacob wants to finish up his writing for the day and whether Tina still wants to have her session with him. Tina passes it on because she has found something very intriguing on her desk to look through.

There's a file, neatly labelled 'ESTELLA' in Blaine's smooth handwriting. The musical. She flips it open to see the latest draft of the script in which Artie's stage directions have been added to. Another section of the file involves minutes of meetings that they've been to, typed out meticulously by Nessie, and it certainly shows that Artie has been very involved in all the planning. His ideas have been carefully researched and presented, then co-opted and modified for the play. The list of cast members have also been finalized. Everything's worked out to a T, and she can't help getting excited over it.

"_Estella, Estella, always down in the cellar,  
Estella, Estella, where art thou your fella?"_

Tina's gone through all the sheet music as well, and this particular piece of music sticks with her for the whole day as she types up her workplans. It's catchy and yet with a tinge of melancholy beneath that makes her breath catch as she sings it quietly to herself. The songs of the mischievous boys on the streets calling out to Estella, teasing her as a maidservant even though she's been brought up like a lady... she can almost imagine the whole set-up on stage as per Artie's direction in the script, and it looks and sounds incredible. At the end of the day, she retrieves that piece of sheet music again just to double-check a few notes. What she notices instead makes her drop the paper in surprise.

The composer is not Zoe, the girl Blaine has been raving about.

It's Artie.

Tina takes out the rest of the music and it's all composed by Zoe and written by Matt. But this piece in particular, the title piece 'Estella', is written _and_ composed by Artie.

She takes the piece of sheet music with her as she heads out of the office and towards Room No. 3. But Artie's not there.

Her pace quickens as she goes past the various therapy rooms. He's not in any of them.

The security guard at the dorms insists that Artie's not back yet.

She crosses the courtyard to the other rooms. Not there, not there, not there...

_Artie... where are you?_

The soft strains of guitar and a voice come floating by as she moves towards the music rooms. She's never known that Artie comes here, but as the voice strengthens, she knows that it's him.

_"I'm dreaming beyond the silence,  
Sounds beyond my conscience,"_

The acoustic version of the title song, she realizes. So much more heartbreaking than what she had imagined.

_"But still I lie here waiting,  
Waiting and hating,  
Hating and baying  
The boys, the men, they know no love  
That I'm not down below, but up above  
Their world of deceit and debauchery  
I will break their hearts... break their hearts..."_

The guitar stops there even as his voice lingers.

Tina can't help but clap as she approaches the room. She sees his eyes widen through the window and he hurries to put the guitar back into its case.

"No, wait!" Tina walks into the room. "You can continue; it was beautiful."

"I'm tired," says Artie, quickly. He shuts the case and releases his wheel locks. "Goodbye."

"Artie," says Tina. "You wrote that song?"

Artie's gaze flickers. Then he bows his head. "Yes."

"It's the most beautiful song in the catalogue, I'm not gonna lie."

His head shoots up. "Really?"

"I _love_ it," says Tina, smiling.

"Thank you."

"When... when did you learn to play the guitar so well? I heard that Blaine tried to teach you before, but you weren't very interested."

"It's painful," explains Artie. "But when I want to sing, I'll come here." He looks at her. "I practiced till it didn't hurt anymore."

He holds up callused fingers.

"You..." Tina tilts her head to the side. "You love music, Artie. You love to perform in all ways – singing, playing an instrument, dancing..." Artie stiffens visibly at the mention of that. "Yet you always put up a front as though you can't care less about all of that. That what matters to you is just watching _West Side Story_ over and over again."

Artie doesn't respond. Once again, he picks at his fingers.

"Emma told me you want to pursue a Masters' in directing."

"Yes."

"In the meantime, you'll do a degree in theater design and production."

"Yes."

"Why don't you consider performing?"

Now he's really rigid. He's clasping his handrails and looks like he's trying to calm himself down.

"Artie, take your time," says Tina, and she reaches out to cover his hand.

Slowly, he relaxes – and to Tina's surprise, he takes her hand into both of his. It seems to calm him down tremendously as his breathing stabilizes. Tina tries very, _very_ hard to ignore the fact that her hand fits perfectly in his clasp – and really warmly as well...

"They'll laugh at me," he says, quietly.

"Who will?"

"Everyone," says Artie. "Everyone laughs at me when I say I want to become a... a music star. They never hear me play because – because I don't play often. It reminds me of..." He takes a deep breath. "It reminds me of _them_."

Tina looks confused for a moment, then her look softens. "Your parents?"

"My parents," Artie affirms. "My parents brought me to music and dance lessons."

"So you _did_ want to become a music star?"

"They said I was stupid and always angry and would never make it. They'd go and have their music lessons and play all these terrible songs to make me angry." Artie clenches his fists. "I hate them."

"The children at the orphanage?" Tina guesses.

"Quinn would sing with me," says Artie. "But she thinks I'm silly too."

"No, she doesn't," says Tina, remembering what Quinn had told her. "She just wants you to be strong."

"I'm strong," argues Artie. "I just get angry very often and she doesn't like that."

Tina thinks wryly that Quinn gets angry pretty easily too, but brushes that aside. "So, you've given up on those dreams?"

"Angry people become directors, right? That's what Quinn says."

Tina stifles a laugh. "She said that?"

But then she realizes that Quinn has a point. Artie's directing is so good because he is so precise, so sharp and so _adamant_ about what he wants. He knows everything to do with music, but when he's angry, it means that he wants things done a certain way.

"Yes," says Artie. "Is she wrong?"

"It's not a fact," says Tina. "But you definitely make a good one because you get angry. It makes you more critical."

"I have more control," says Artie. "It feels good."

"You're so bossy," teases Tina.

"I _am_ the boss," says Artie.

Tina suddenly feels a wave of affection, only to groan inwardly. What is she opening herself up to?

"Tina?" Artie asks, his voice now much more tender.

"Y-yes?"

"Can I..." He hesitates, then looks at her warily. "Can I have a hug? I miss you."

At that moment, Tina's heart just _melts_. He _misses_ her. He freaking _misses_ her. Even when he's doing well on his own, he still wants her by his side. The worst thing is, he still misses her even after all the times she's been clearly ignoring him _and_ hurting him at the same time.

She lets out a big sigh. "Artie, I can't –"

"Friends... friends hug too, right?" he asks, even though he looks really sad now.

"Artie, I'm so sorry," she whispers.

He blinks. "Why are you sorry?"

"I don't know, I just –"

"Is this because you have been avoiding me?"

Tina can't help smiling weakly. "Is it that obvious?"

"I know you have been avoiding me. It's not very nice, but I think it's because you have a boyfriend and it's not nice for him if you keep being friends with me." Artie hangs his head. "But I like being friends with you and it's sad that we can't be."

"Oh, Artie," says Tina, at once. "Who said we can't be friends?"

She sighs again. "Look, that was all just me being sensitive and paranoid and –" Artie doesn't really seem to catch on, but she rambles on anyway, "– I don't want to hurt you anymore. If distancing myself from you makes you so upset, then I'm not going to run. I'm just going to be here, by your side, encouraging you to pursue your dreams. You _are_ going to make that musical a success and I'm going to watch you achieve it. I –"

Before she knows it, Artie has leant forward to give her a big hug. A gasp of breath escapes her mouth as she barely registers the sensation – the familiar tingling charging through her.

"I miss you," repeats Artie, his voice slightly muffled by her hair. "Thank you for being my friend again."

Tina decides not to tackle that sentence; instead, she says, "Don't give up performing either, Artie. You're extremely talented in it too. Even if you don't pursue it as a career, it can always be your hobby. You're always so much happier and at ease when you're performing."

He gives a nod against her shoulder.

"Come on," says Tina, as she pulls back, though her hands are still on his shoulders and his are still resting on her back. She knows her eyes are shining just as much as Artie's and she has a huge urge to put her hands on his cheeks. "Play me the whole song. 'Estella'."

Artie obliges as he lets go of her and opens the case again. When he sings, Tina forgets everything else. She only sees the young man before her smile as he strums and sings. Artie the autistic boy with a bad temper and needs to be cured of his _West Side Story_ obsession, is no more.

This is Artie, the young man with hopes and dreams, well on his way to achieve them.

This is Artie, her friend.

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Tina makes her way to the front gate after work, she notices a very familiar car pull into the lot. She lets out a squeal as she bounds over. Kurt steps out of the car, locks it, and barely has time to look ahead when Tina throws herself onto him.

"Oh my God!" Kurt nearly drops his keys.

Tina pulls back, delighted. "What a welcome surprise, Kurt!"

"Uh," Kurt adjusts his collar with one hand, the other hand at the small of Tina's back. "Yeah, great surprise to see you too, Tina. I thought you'd be buried under your work again."

Tina looks at him in confusion. "You're not here for me?"

Kurt clears his throat and Tina _swears_ he's turning red. "Uh, I..."

"Hey, Kurt!"

Kurt snaps out of his awkward moment and waves enthusiastically ahead at...

Tina gasps loudly. Then she bursts out giggling as Kurt stares at her in annoyance. "What?"

Blaine comes over, his eyes twinkling. "What's the joke?"

"You two!" Tina can't stop giggling. "The two of you are _dating_?"

"You're a great friend, Tina," says Kurt, wryly. "Haven't you noticed Anderson's always dressed to the nines on Tuesdays and Fridays?"

"Hey, I always dress impeccably," protests Blaine. Then he grins at Tina. "Want to be the third wheel?"

Tina reaches out and smacks his arm. "When you put it like that, how could I be?" Then she clasps her hands together. "Aw, was I the unintended matchmaker? I feel so blissful knowing that."

"Yes, you were, now shut up and leave," says Kurt, even though he's still blushing.

Tina sticks out her tongue and clings onto him mockingly. "I see how much you value my friendship."

"Blaine!"

All three of them turn around to see Artie wheel towards them, waving a file. "You forgot your –"

Artie trails off as he notices all of them. "Oh, hi, Tina."

Kurt draws in a deep breath. "Well, well, here's the Merrymaker to your matchmaker."

Tina smacks him this time.

Artie's gaze flickers to Kurt, whose arm is still around Tina. "You are Tina's boyfriend."

Kurt stares at Artie. Then he turns his head slowly to Tina. "What's –"

"No, I –" Tina begins.

"He's very good-looking," says Artie. "He's good for you."

_Good for me?_

"Thanks?" Kurt says, amusedly.

Tina glares at him.

"Thanks, Artie," says Blaine, taking the file from him. "Time for you to go back."

Artie obliges, even though Tina's still trying to formulate her words. But he's gone by the time she figures something out. She lets out a groan. "Why didn't you let me finish what I had to say?"

"I won't let you say anymore either," says Blaine, apologetically. "Because Kurt and I have a show to catch, and we're gonna be late."

Kurt jumps as he regards his watch. "Christ! We really are. Okay sorry, Tina, but we have to run." He gives her a quick peck on the cheek and gently shoves her aside. "Bye!"

Tina watches them climb into Kurt's car and waves goodbye. Then she can't help but turn and look back at the center and fervently prays that this afternoon's painstakingly-reformed friendship has not been ruined.

That night, Mike comes over to her place with a DVD and a pint of ice cream. But both items are forgotten when ten minutes into the film, his hand starts wandering all over her. Her head tilts back to give him a kiss, but it soon evolves into a lot of tongue and _heat_ and it's snaking through her entire body. Random lyrics are running through her head and she's imagining a harem of cherubims singing above her.

_He holds her in his arms  
Would you? Would you?_

He presses on top of her head, eyes asking for consent, and she responds by arching her back to give him access under her blouse. The contact with her skin is instantly electrifying and _gratifying... _her body craves the warmth that his hand and lips are providing her with. He's whispering sweet words against her ear and her lips have fallen open as he trails his down her neck.

_He tells her of her charms  
Would you? Would you?_

But the moment he strokes at the delicate skin over her ribcage and ventures further, she suddenly puts a hand on his arm.

Mike looks at her in surprise. Then disappointment overtakes him as he retrieves his hand from under her blouse.

"Sorry," Tina breathes, "I... I'm just –"

"No, no, it's okay," says Mike, who has the grace to look embarrassed. "I totally understand. Too fast. We'll take it slower."

"I, uhh, would like to continue the film, if you don't mind," says Tina, awkwardly. "It's a – it's a great film."

"Sure," says Mike, as he sits up. He curls his arm around her and she shifts against him.

She shifts a few more times throughout the show. His thumb stroking circles on her arm sends tingles, but it feels – it just feels –

_He'll kiss her with a sigh  
Would you? Would you?_

She's not too sure what it really feels like _per se_. But when she hugs Mike goodnight before he leaves, she finally figures out that it's not that she doesn't feel something. It's that she _has_ felt it before, in the most chaste of situations.

_And if the girl were I  
Would you? Would you?_

Tina slaps herself on both cheeks and shakes her head. She makes her way to the kitchen and is surprised to see her mother there, doing a book of Sudoku.

"Mom?"

"Hey, honey," says Tina's mother, smiling till her eyes crinkle in a way that Tina loves. "Had a good night?"

Tina blushes. "Yeah. Sort of."

"Mike is a good boy." Tina's mother eyes her knowingly. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, mom." And Tina proceeds to boil water for her glass of hot milk.

"How's your day at work?"

Tina sighs inwardly. "Fine, I guess. The usual." Then she turns to face her mother, who is still scribbling in the puzzle book. "It's kind of nice to know that you're making a difference in people's lives, as clichéd as that sounds."

"You know your father and I still have reservations about this," says Tina's mother. "But as long as you're happy, darling. Are you still working with that – that boy – what's his name..."

"Artie?"

"Yes, how's Artie doing?"

"He's great, mom. He's planning to go to college and study theater design and production, then move on to directing classes." Tina breaks into a smile. "I... I'm really, really happy for him. He's going places. Sometimes, we try to believe in a person and hope that they get motivated by it but it doesn't always materialize. This time? It really did and I just –"

Tina's mom looks up at her and puts down the pencil. "Just?"

"I'm afraid for him too, Mom. He wants to go to LA all alone. He's an independent young man, yes, but there're so many things that are new for him and when he's exposed to new things, he tends to run away from them. If there's someone to be there with him, he won't be so scared. When he does try new things, he always ends up excelling and making the most out of it."

"My dear, that boy has to go out into the world one day without any of you holding his hand," says Tina's mother, matter-of-factly.

"It's not about holding his hand, he's not a baby!" Tina can't help but laugh nervously. "It's really about – it's just trying to be there for him, you know. I just want to –" Tina stops short and feels a hot flush at her neck.

"Tina," says her mother, a little worriedly. "You _can't_ be there for him once he's going to college."

Tina slumps into a chair. "I know."

"You have to make sure he knows that too."

"I'm not... I'm not in charge of him anymore."

Tina's mom frowns. "Then shouldn't the other therapist in charge of him be worrying about it?"

"He's not under any therapist now, he's just... he's on his own."

"Isn't that good? He sounds quite... independent."

"Mom, I'm tired," mumbles Tina. "I'm going to bed."

_They met as you and I,  
And they were only friends  
But before the story ends..._

"Do you need me to save you dinner tomorrow night? Or will you be out with Mike?"

The mention of Mike makes her heart ache for some inexplicable reason. It feels like both Mike and Artie shouldn't be in the same conversation.

"I'll let you know again," says Tina, wearily.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." She can hear the worry in her mother's voice, but she chooses not to think too much about it.

_Would you dare to say  
'Let's do the same as they.'?  
Would you?  
...would I?_


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

* * *

Tina's birthday comes a month later and she likes to think that it brings her happiness and new beginnings. This year, however, she feels like it marks another step closer to a moment of dread.

Lima Autism Center takes its staff's birthdays pretty seriously. The staff meeting at the end of the month always involves a birthday cake and a mass song and lots of well-wishes. Tina's birthday is no exception, except Mike steps it up a notch and makes her go around the Center retrieving little clues from all the participants by doing tasks with them. The staff members giggle as Tina starts off with getting Brittany to draw a credible-looking monkey just by describing the animal to her without saying the word 'monkey'. Brittany's incredible intelligent when it comes to art though – the mention of a long tail, brown fur, hands and round ears gets her drawing the cutest monkey ever, and everyone is distracted momentarily by cooing over it. Brittany then hands over Tina's next clue, which is to find Howard Bamboo.

Tina's next task involves building a six-level tower card with Howard. Through her guidance, he's able to put aside being rather nervous with all the attention and even as Tina's cards fall flat, he doesn't complain and helps her put it upright again.

"We should do this for every single birthday!" yells Tina, once Howard and her are done, and the staff cheers while Mike groans, "I can't keep thinking of new stuff!"

Sugar completes her task of matching latest outfits to the brands, while Finn successfully chips off a wood block in five minutes to produce a vague figurine ("The next time, we're hitting four minutes," Ken adds gruffly). Sam gets through a mini-spelling bee without getting too agitated as Tina works the consonant and vowel sounds with him. By the time Tina is directed to Artie, she's exhausted – though she has to admit it was good fun.

But Artie isn't anywhere to be found. He's not in Room No. 3, nor is he in the music room. Tina is confused as she scours the canteen but still can't find him. Her heartbeat starts to race as she wonders...

Mike looks equally perplexed. "I told Santana to pass it to him and make him stay in the room!"

"Oh, I forgot about the last part. I handed it to him and he said he had a headache and wanted to go back," says Santana, nonchalantly.

Tina heaves a mental sigh of relief.

"And you conveniently forgot to mention that till now?" Mike looks at her, annoyed.

"It's okay!" says Tina, brightly. "I'm assuming you still have the final clue, Santana."

Santana hands it over with a sly grin, and Tina opens the envelope up to find an invitation to an extremely fancy Italian restaurant in Central Lima. She blushes a brilliant red as all her colleagues grin and giggle at her, while Mike pulls her in for a quick hug and tells her he's already got her mom to pick out a nice dress for her and she can get it from his car to change into later.

Sue announces that she still has more things to settle with a few staff members, including Mike, much to his dismay. He hands her his car keys and tells her to go change first. However, when Tina goes to her desk to pack up, she turns to look at Santana curiously.

"A headache?"

"What?"

"Artie," says Tina. "He had a headache? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," says Santana, eyes still glued to her computer as she types.

"Was he... was he upset or anything? Did you take him today or something? Was he doing the usual stuff or the musical or you know... anything out of the ordinary?" Tina pauses, before wondering aloud, "Did he say anything weird to you?"

Santana swivels around in her chair. "Oh for God's sake, why is this _thing_ between the two of you unsettled?"

"What thing?" demands Tina, even though she knows very well what Santana is saying.

"You're worrying a hell out of a... oh, Jesus!" Santana throws up her hands. "You're crazy, Lady Chang."

"He's my friend," says Tina, adamantly.

"Friend? _Friend_?"

"There isn't a rule that stipulates that friends can't be made, right? Like you and –"

"Don't throw Brittany at me!" warns Santana.

"I think I'll go and see him," says Tina, taking her bag.

"Hey, hold up, what about your date?" Santana points to another bag, the one with her dress inside.

"I won't take long!"

She runs to the dorms and the security guard is rather disgruntled about letting her visit Artie so many times, but relents anyway. When she reaches the corridor, she can hear the strains of a familiar tune,

_You are my lucky star  
I saw you from afar  
Two lovely eyes at me  
They were gleaming  
Beaming  
I was starstruck_

Tina makes her way to Artie's room, straightens her posture and knocks on the door.

The strumming and singing stops abruptly. "Come in."

Tina pushes open the door. Her gaze first lands on the wall before her – it's covered in A4-size pieces of paper. What astounds her is that every piece of paper is covered with a colorful piece of drawing. It's simply rendered, thin limbs and figures with a touch of color, people doing things, moving around, a blue dress and mustard-colored blazer featured most often. As her eyes flick over the pieces, she realizes what story it's telling.

It's the story of _West Side Story_.

Her gaze lowers to Artie seated on the bed with the guitar in his hands, eyes fixed on her. His wheelchair is by the side with a stack of musical book scores on the seat. The _Singin' In The Rain_ book is wide-open on a music stand before him.

She turns to see that the other wall has a big noticeboard on which he has plastered various profit-and-loss table templates of various musicals. In the center is an A3 size stack pinned with a large thumbtack, entitled 'ESTELLA'.

By his bed is a mantelpiece where there are various photograph frames lined up neatly, equidistant from one another. Photographs of Artie when he was a little boy – when he could walk... of him and his parents... his parents alone... of him and a few children... none of the photographs showed him beyond the age of eight.

"I miss them." Artie's raw voice cuts through her thick thoughts and brings her gaze back to him. "I wish they can watch me direct the musical."

Tina sits down at the edge of the bed. Her eyes go back to the drawings on the wall. "Did... did you draw those?"

He follows her gaze. "Yes."

Tina lets out a tiny gasp. "Artie, what other things _can_ you do?"

"I can do a lot of things."

The strength in his voice feels unfamiliar, yet she feels the power in it, the same power he has when he gets angry over something. All that rage and hurt in him, now translated into something so strong and determined.

"They wanted to take away the photographs," says Artie, his voice still thick. "They put everything into big boxes and put them in a truck. They wanted to move me away but I was holding onto all the photographs. I didn't let them take it. They can't have it."

"Artie," says Tina, quietly. "Those photographs are yours to keep. You had every right."

"Is it bad? Many people say it's bad to hold onto the past."

Happiness, sadness, anger... Artie has learnt to adjust his voice volume and strength accordingly to those emotions, but it never quite rings the same as most others. Tina occasionally wonders if the emotion that gets conveyed is really his own or out of her own imagination. Now is one of those moments that she could only be very sure that he was, undoubtedly, sad.

"It's the past that makes you so much stronger," says Tina, angling herself to face him. "So many people in your position would have been so devastated, they would have quit and said I can't go on with life. But you kept on going, even when people laughed at you. You held onto what your parents have said and did for you in the past, and it's what has kept you going all this while."

"But life is not better," says Artie, as he takes down a photograph of him and his parents. "If I let them go, maybe I'll be happier."

"You won't be," Tina interjects immediately. "You love them so much, Artie. _Don't_."

He looks at her, his eyes full of emotion. "I love them, but they're gone. If I keep looking at these photographs, I remember them and I get sad. I don't want to be sad, Tina. I'm tired of being sad."

Tina can't help inching forward to hold his hands. They fit right in hers; they hold onto her. But the words are all stuck at the back of her throat. So she comforts him the only way she knows how. She pulls him into an embrace and runs her hands down his back.

"You're one of the strongest people I've ever met," whispers Tina, as Artie clings onto her. "There are so many people out there who believe in you and love you."

"I know," comes the muffled reply.

Then he pulls back and looks at Tina. Then suddenly, his hand is millimeters away from her face. He reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair back behind her ears, and his the split second of contact between his finger and her ear makes her shudder slightly.

She doesn't move away. She should, but she doesn't, because she wants – she _needs _that look in his eyes. It's strong, resolute and intense... yet, tender and filled with wonder all at once. Sometimes, she thinks it's just the brilliant blue of his eyes that makes her think his gaze is a lot more than blankness. But now, the mix of strength and innocence before her is so riveting and pure and _real_ that it makes her heart ache. His fingers are ghosting around the side of her face and it's like time has stopped.

He's the one who breaks away first. His eyes dart to the ground, where Tina has placed her bags of presents from the staff. "What's that?"

Tina blinks rapidly, then focuses her gaze on his object of interest. "Oh. Um. Birthday presents."

"It's your birthday today?" His pitch inclines a little high towards the end.

"Yeah."

"Happy Birthday."

"Thank you."

He breaks out into a soft smile as he picks up the guitar once again. Then he softly hums the birthday song as he strums. Tina can't help matching his smile as she listens.

"Did you make a wish?" Artie asks, once he has finished.

Tina stops clapping. "Um. Yeah."

"What did you wish for?"

Tina grins. "It's not going to come true if I tell you."

"Oh. But can I tell you my wish for you?"

"Why would you wish for me?"

"People give well-wishes, don't they?"

Tina can't argue with that, so he continues, "I wish that you will also make your dreams come true."

"M-my dreams?"

"You like singing and dancing too."

Tina draws in a sharp breath, then she looks away. "I... I have to go."

"You don't?" Artie sounds confused.

"No, I do, you're right," says Tina, shakily. "It's just that I usually have to point it out to people."

"You –"

"Artie, I really have to go."

"Okay," he says, with a mild dramatic sigh. "Do you want anything else for your birthday?"

Tina chuckles. "And what would you give?"

Artie stares at her, then says quietly. "Close your eyes."

Tina's not sure why she feels so obliging towards him at the moment. Maybe it's his eyes. Maybe it's his voice, which is filled with a raw and charming sense of sincerity. She isn't sure why she didn't expect it, but when it comes, she knows deep inside that she _did_.

His lips are gentle, yet rigid against hers. Then inexplicably, she presses back lightly and the rigidity dissipates. In its place is a softness and tenderness that vibrates under her skin.

The sharp edge of his spectacles cut into her nose and she's suddenly highly aware that Artie has his eyes closed and is kiss–

Tina pulls back sharply, her fingers flying to her lips. Artie's eyes flutter open slowly, but she doesn't want to see the expression in there. She doesn't want to know what her moment of foolishness has done to him, to herself... all she knows is that she has to get out of there. The usual 'Goodbye' is lost in the wind as she dashes out with her bags down the corridor. When she's reached the foot of the stairs, she's knocked out of breath and can only lean against the wall to catch it all back.

But she can't. She can't catch anything back.

_Tina Cohen-Chang... what the hell are you doing?_

Upstairs, the soft strains of song continue,

_You're all my lucky charm  
I'm lucky in your arms  
You've opened Heaven's portal  
Here on Earth for this poor mortal  
You are my lucky star..._

Tina swallows hard and makes her way to the staff room. Mike is waiting there patiently, and the bag with the dress is on her seat like incriminating evidence.

"Tina!" Mike notices her at once, and worry is etched into his face. "Where did you go? I thought you –"

He stops abruptly and concern overtakes him. "Are you okay? You look so pale."

Santana shoots her a suspicious look from the side.

"I... I'm so sorry, Mike," Tina whispers. "But I'm suddenly feeling really, really unwell. I need to... I just need to..."

"No problem, I'll send you home," says Mike, but Santana suddenly interjects, "I'll do it."

"But –"

"No buts, Changster, your man-boobs are not enough to provide sufficient absorbent material for lady crying."

Mike is stunned into silence.

In the car, Tina just keeps staring out of the window. Her head is too heavy to think anymore, until Santana breaks through the haze with her cutting words,

"You're not being fair to either. I hope you know it."

Tina can't even bother to correct Santana that _there is no issue here, there's no question of fairness or the lack of it, Artie and I are just mentee and therapist and my boyfriend is Mike... _She knows this is why Santana volunteered to bring her home, but she's just aching outside and inside and there's just no way replying Santana is going to make all of that go away.

She leans her head back on the headrest and continues watching the cars go by.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tina's buried behind stacks of files and sheets of paper when Blaine comes up to her desk early in the morning.

"Hey!" he says, enthusiastically, nearly making her jump out of her seat. "Morning blues?"

"You think?"

"On the scale of one to ten, I think this looks like a thirteen. What are you busying yourself with?"

"Sue wants me to draft out a proposal for a _state_ conference on autism and I'm trying to edit Jacob's latest writing efforts, which although is thought-provoking and brilliantly written I must say, it's also really controversial and would really not pave his way into the local newspaper."

"Wow, he's trying out for the Lima Tribune? That's fantastic."

Tina puts down her pen and looks up at Blaine, who is smiling way _too_ brightly. "And yes, Mr. Sunshine, what's with the sudden interest in my affairs?"

"Have I not been a good enough friend that you should question my concern?" Blaine sighs loudly. When Tina merely continues staring at him, he sighs again and says, "Alright, it's Artie."

Tina jerks involuntarily. Thank goodness Santana is away on an errand and isn't around to make any more of those snarky comments that had tormented her throughout the entire car ride a few days ago. "What... about him?"

"He's in a funk. Like he's contributing and stuff, but he's been really listless and his ideas – they don't really sparkle much anymore. They're very mundane comments – very unlike him."

"Maybe he's really run out of them, you guys are already driving forward very well."

"Tina," says Blaine, his voice now carrying a note of urgency. "He's losing steam. We can't have the director losing steam. This whole thing has driven forward so far because of him. I've talked to him but it just seems to go out the other ear."

"Then why do _I_ have to do it?" demands Tina. "What I say goes out the other way too!"

"You know it doesn't."

"Yes, it does!" Tina glares at Blaine, who shrinks back slightly. "If the message got in, he damn well shouldn't still be –"

She trails off and throws her head back on the chair. "Ugh!"

"I don't want to delve into whatever you're thinking about at the moment," says Blaine, his thick eyebrows raised to the top. "It's up to you though. This musical was your idea right from the beginning and I really thought you wanted it to go through perfectly because it was for Artie. Think about it."

_Fine._ She will do it for Blaine. She will do it for Artie – but only because he's from Lima Autism Center. It's exactly how she got Sugar's designs to Kurt's company. It's exactly how she's gotten Jacob's articles towards (not _to_) the Lima Tribune. So this is her way of getting Artie to the Lima theater scene. That's why she's doing this.

She repeats those sentences in her mind over and over again as she heads towards Room No. 3. Usually, she feels a sense of expectation, hope and positivity whenever she embarks on that familiar route. Now it only feels dismal. What still remains is that there is the feeling of static – that the T.V. is on, and sure enough, _West Side Story_ is playing.

_Goodnight... goodnight...  
Sleep well and when you dream..._

She pushes open the door slightly. Artie doesn't flinch as he watches Tony and Maria hold each other's hands.

_Dream of me...  
Tonight..._

"Hey," says Tina.

Artie switches off the T.V. and turns around. "Hi, Tina."

"So..." Tina crosses over to the table and sits down. _What a familiar position too._ "Blaine was telling me you've not been very focused during rehearsals." Before Artie can answer, she holds up a finger. "Don't tell me you've been tired. Everyone in musical theater business works crazy hours and get really, really tired. This is nothing compared to the big-scale shows."

Silence.

"I'm sorry."

Here it goes again.

Tina sighs wearily. "What now, Artie?"

"I'm sorry for kissing you," he says, and her body snaps up straight. "I made you uncomfortable and I'm sorry. I should not talk to you anymore."

"What... what about being friends?" Tina asks, weakly. "It's okay, Artie, it was just –"

"You said that it was a crush. But it's too heavy," says Artie, quietly. "It's heavy for you too. I think we really shouldn't talk."

"Listen, Artie, this is not about you. You're a really good and kind and talented young man whom I admire so very much," says Tina, her voice cracking. "It's just not right and there's nothing that can happen between –"

"Tina?"

She stops and stares at him.

"If... if I didn't have autism," says Artie, then he breaks out of his thought process for a bit to muse, "Estella only came to Pip when he was rich. She didn't want him when he was poor and wasn't a gentleman." He blinks rhythmically for the next few seconds and mutters unintelligible words under his breath.

"I don't get you..." Tina pauses, then cocks her head to the side as the story of _Great Expectations_ flows back in her mind. "Estella always loved Pip. She was just holding onto the lessons that Miss Havisham taught her." She looks warily at Artie. "Are you trying to say I'd like you if you didn't have autism?"

When Artie doesn't respond, Tina throws up her hands. "Artie, this isn't about you having autism! I already said..."

"But you said it's because you are my therapist," Artie interjects. "It's not right. You said it's not right."

"It's not just that, it's also –" Tina trails off helplessly.

"Estella loved Pip all the time?" Artie asks.

Now it's Tina's turn not to respond. She starts to tidy up the sheets of paper on the table.

"Come watch my rehearsal," says Artie. "Please," he adds as an afterthought.

She doesn't give excuses this time. She simply says goodbye and walks out, tells Emma to help her with Jacob for today, then goes over to Blaine. Blaine is delighted to hear that she will attend the rehearsal and when he asks if Artie is better, she can only reply, "I don't know."

At the rehearsal, she gets what she expects: Artie is brilliant and impressive. Or at least what she has always expected, barring the recent slump in motivation. Clearly, the morning encounter with Tina seems to have sparked something in him, and he's in his element, calling out directions and feedback in that stern voice of his. He's always critical about some little detail in every scene, never giving any a pass. Yet, his instructions have improved drastically from the first time Tina heard him criticize _West Side Story_ on screen, and also that faithful day at the theater when he had yelled at the stage. He is confident, sharp and honest, but he is not condescending and makes sure the actor understands where he is coming from. It helps that the rest are special needs adults who don't misconstrue his honesty for rudeness or jibing. The music is enchanting, the lyrics are sweet and the acting is surprisingly real. Everything is woven together with Artie's intricate directing and even though it's still half-baked, it still rings with a simple sincerity that is touching.

Just before the last scene ends, Tina slips out of the auditorium, a huge lump in her throat. Her mind is still whirling with the morning's events and she really needs to sort through all of that once and for all.

"I met Mrs. Chang at the supermarket this morning."

Tina's at the dining table with her laptop; she looks above the screen at her mother. "Oh. Okay..."

Tina's mother walks over and sits down across the table. "She thinks you're sick very easily and wanted me to pop by her house for some Chinese herbs."

"Eh? No, Mom, I think Mike just exaggerated some of my... colds."

"So... Mike talks to her about your health and you talk to me about... nothing regarding him?"

"Well, what do you want to know?" Tina goes back to typing.

"Maybe, what the two of you have been doing on dates, how he makes you feel?" Tina's mother looks at her hopefully.

Tina eyes her mother skeptically. "Really? Are you that interested in those stuff?"

"Tina, when you had your first boyfriend, you literally skipped home everyday to tell me what went on. He took you to the movies, he held your hand, the two of you had a near-kiss... that happened to Guy No. 2. Mike is your first boyfriend since a hell of a long time and you're telling me you're not excited about the little milestones? Or you're just too grown up to share all those things with me?" Her mother looks hurt.

"Mom, it's not like that." Tina sighs. "I just... Maybe I've really grown up, but it's nothing to do with you, okay? Haven't I been talking to you all the time? I tell you what goes on at work, I tell you about..."

"Artie Abrams, yes, you tell me about the little stages of progress he is in and you don't tell me the stages of progress in your relationship. Although you hardly talk about Artie now, anyway. Oh yeah, I forgot, you're not his therapist anymore."

"Mom."

"Tina, I can't help but be worried. Your emotions have been completely tied to that boy's progress, don't you realize?"

Tina's hands still above her keyboard.

"When he's doing well, you're so excited, you make us feel happy for you that you're doing well in your job. When he's gone and blown things apart, you're so dejected, it makes us wish that we can take you out of this miserable and thankless environment. Now when you're no longer in charge of him, you just don't speak much anymore. It's like there's something weighing down in you."

She doesn't quite know what to say. _Mom, he likes me. I don't know what to do because I made him upset and now I'm upset too._

_And I kissed him, I liked it, and that's just a whole new level of screwed up._

"I just... he's my first mentee after all."

"Tina, it's just – it's just concern, right?" her mother asks, worriedly. "He sounds lovely and all, but there's, you know, nothing..."

"He's my friend." But even her voice chokes at that.

"Oh, honey, you were never a good liar." Her mother sounds a bit desperate now.

"I'm not –"

"Tina, he's not... he's not _typical_."

Tina laughs humorlessly. "I wish he wasn't."

"Why didn't you tell me –"

Tina slams down her laptop cover. "What am I supposed to say? Or do? Come home crying because I don't know what the hell I'm doing? That I entered this school to make a difference to people's lives, had somebody turn the tables on me and make a difference in _my_ life, and then when everybody tells me I'm getting too attached, I just laugh it off but in fact I really am? That I want to believe so much that I'm just pitying him even though I'd hate to do that, I don't do that because I really believe in him, and I try to distance myself but in the end, we just end up gravitating towards each other again and I really, _really_want to be there for him because every single thing he does or says just _gets_ at me... and I'm attached and I don't even know why this is all happening!"

She buries her head in her hands and cries out loud for the first time in ages. Her mother's arms wrap around her a while later and it's comforting, warm, but it doesn't help to make the ache go away.

"Do you remember Aunt Jenny?"

In between loud sobs, Tina manages to squeeze out a, "Who?"

"She was here for the big Thanksgiving gathering three years ago. She didn't really talk much back then and left the party early. I remember she offered you a sweet though and you didn't take it."

Tina hiccups, then takes a deep breath. When her shudders finally lessen, she looks at her mother, surprised. "I know who. You all didn't really... like her, so I thought... I thought refusing her was the best course of action."

"I liked her," says her mother, "But your aunts and uncles didn't, so I pretended like we didn't really know each other."

"Mom, that's terrible!"

Her mother sighed. "I know, right. I've gotten into contact with her the last few weeks though, and she's coming to Lima next month. I invited her to tea because I really owe her that apology. Turns out being too socially conscious has its own drawbacks, huh."

Tina frowns. "What's this, a lesson for the people at the center?"

"Your Aunt Jenny married a blind man," says her mother, slowly. "Everybody thought when they were dating, it was just, you know, out of pity and all that. Your Uncle Nathan called her an idiot because she was signing away her life to a man who would be dependent on her and in his words, 'leech off her every penny'."

Tina clenches her fists instinctively and mutters, "I never did like him..."

"Back when she came for the party, she had just gotten engaged. I thought she was silly too, because that man would never be able to care for her the way any other man would. She was settling for someone who in the moment made her happy, that was all."

"Mom..."

"Now? She has one of the happiest marriages I've ever seen. I have her on Facebook, you know," says her mother, with a laugh. "And she's pretty active on it, posting lots of pictures and updates about their life. They do things together and he's always doing little surprises for her, he's working hard, he makes her happy. We just saw him for what he was, not who he was, and sometimes, I feel like it's that disability that makes them so much stronger as a couple."

"That's... that's wonderful. But I don't –"

Her mother takes her hands and looks at her seriously. "Autistic people are very different. You never really know how they are feeling because they don't express themselves the way we expect others to, right?"

Tina nods numbly.

"But I don't think that writes them off the social world completely," says her mother, gently. "That's what you've taught your father and I, so that must be what you believe too. I want you to think about this not in terms of whether you are pitying Artie or humoring Mike, but who you are truly happy with. Whoever you pick, whether the two of you will be able to have a healthy relationship. Your father and I just want you to be happy, Tina."

Tina looks at her mother in wonder. Her heart is swelling with happiness just knowing that her mother cares so much and trusts her. She clings onto her mother like a small child and closes her eyes tightly. Even though she still can't make any headway with her jumbled thoughts, her mother's understanding for her and the people she cares about is enough to make her feel the luckiest girl in the world.

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Tina walks by the reception sleepily in the morning, the receptionist has to get out of her seat to drag her into Sue's office. It is only when Sue places a letter right in front of Tina that she snaps out of her reverie.

"What's that?" she asks blearily.

"Great to know that my two-thousand, six-hundred and forty-three words, and five minutes and twenty-eight seconds wasted on your fly-span attention," snaps Sue. "In short, that's a letter from UCLA saying that they've done a speed review of Artie's application and the local Ohio representative wants to meet with him."

Tina gasps as she scans through the letter. "Miss Sylvester... that's_ wonderful_. When's the meeting?"

"This afternoon."

"_What?_ But they're not giving him time to prepare!"

"Well, Sherlock, that's _the point_. Emma's recommendation letter said that he's better at adapting to changes and they're testing that, it seems."

"They're sadistic," says Tina, wrinkling her nose.

"And if he's really serious about it, I'm sure he can manage without preparation. Anyway, he will have you to cover up whatever poop he ends up throwing around."

"Wait a minute," says Tina, narrowing her eyes. "You want _me_ to go with him?"

"Cobain-Chang..."

Tina can't even be bothered to correct her.

"...I believe you were the one who wants to see Artie progress. This is his step ahead and you're gonna chicken out of it?"

It was her idea for Artie to direct a musical. Her idea that he should work on musical and financial analysis. Her idea that he should step out of his comfort zone. Now she's abandoning it all because she thinks she can't draw that damned line between work and personal issues. She's fallen apart at the seams because the line has disappeared into nothingness and suddenly, this letter before her has pulled her back together. Wherever that line is, she can't be bothered anymore. Her head and heart have been aching so much the past few weeks that she really doesn't want to think further. All she knows is that now she has to be there to support Artie for that next step he's going to make, because it's going to be one of the most important in his life. She's not going to abandon ship just because she can't freaking deal with her feelings.

She looks steadfastly at Sue and nods.

"I'll be there."


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

* * *

It's the first time Tina will be out with Artie for that long ever since the theater fiasco, so she tells herself it's understandable being nervous as they sit facing opposite windows in the cab. It's also compounded by the fact that the driver sports a mohawk, sunglasses and a disturbingly smiling expression as he chews on gum and is clearly staring at them through the rear mirror despite him wearing shades.

Tina and Artie remain silent throughout half the journey, until they reach a traffic junction and the jaunty cab driver turns back to flash them a stained-teeth grin. Tina recoils a little.

"Fancy some life in this moldy backseat? It stinks so much of ciggys, alcohol and regrets that it must be gettin' to your sad, sad faces."

"Would you mind... just focusing on driving?" Tina glares at him.

"Hot damn," says the man immediately, tipping his glasses up. "The Puckasaurus is setting his big foot on this one."

"Uh, green light?" Tina gestures to the front.

The driver steps on the accelerator and Tina is thrown back. Artie makes a rather disgruntled sound.

"Your man there ain't the happiest dude around. I'll guarantee smiles _and_ a hundred percent satisfaction," says the driver, smirking.

Tina presses her lips together and stares out the cab window.

"I'm happy," retorts Artie. "There's life in this moldy backseat."

"Took you long enough for that witty comeback," replies the driver. "You're fancy in that suit, homeboy. Your pocket fancy too?"

Artie frowns at the driver. "Why do you want to know about my pockets? Are you after my money?"

Tina is afraid that the driver will make an offensive comment about Artie's unusual answer and is about to cut in, but to her surprise, he laughs out loud.

"Well, fancy squarepants, the moment you got into my cab, you signed up for it. Can't say it's my fault."

The driver raises his sunglasses with one hand, looks Tina straight in the eye through the rear mirror and gives her a wink. Suddenly, Tina feels much warmer to him and offers him a smile in return.

_The world outside is cruel and relentless, but sometimes, you're not alone in trying to tackle it._

Tina says that to Artie when she gives him one last check-through at the lobby area of the building where they are to meet the Ohio representative of UCLA. Artie's gaze is boring into her as she adjusts his bow-tie and suspenders (for goodness' sake, what an attire for a meeting! But they were running late and she hadn't the time and energy to deal with that).

"Ready?" Tina asks as she runs her hands along his arms encouragingly.

"I don't know the answers," says Artie, as he looks up at Tina. "He's going to ask so many questions and I'm going to be scared."

"No, Artie, you're going to tell him the truth."

"What if it's inappropriate..."

"After all the lessons we've had, I think you'd be good enough not to let me down," says Tina, with a small smile. "Just be yourself, Artie. It's what's inside you that will make you deserving of this chance."

Artie picks at his fingernails. "It's also what's on my resume. That I'm autistic."

"Show him," says Tina, her determined voice so strong that Artie looks up at her immediately. "Show all of us that it won't matter. The fact that they asked you here for an interview shows they're interested in something more than that."

Artie holds out his hand and Tina takes it. "Thank you for being here with me. It makes me feel better," he says.

Although Artie has maneuvered his way out of situations due to unintended wordplay, most of the time he really means what he says and the raw sincerity that emanates from him never fails to touch Tina's heart every single time.

"Mr. Abrams?" calls the receptionist. "Mr. Henzie will meet you now."

Artie turns and wheels himself into the room with a long meeting table. Tina follows, and apprehensively looks at the well-dressed man seated at the other end of the table.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Abrams," says Henzie, his countenance not betraying any hint of emotion.

"Good afternoon," Artie replies. He's fidgeting with his fingers once again and Tina has to tap on the handles of his wheelchair to remind him. Sue has already prepared Henzie for communicating with Artie (in terms of speaking more clearly, directly and succinctly), and that Tina will be present, so she can only cross her fingers that it won't be a problem getting through this interview.

"My name is Kenneth Henzie, and I represent the University of California, Los Angeles in their recruitment for the state of Ohio." Henzie shuffles through some papers, then looks expectantly at Artie. "We've read through your application and have been very intrigued by your rather diverse interests. What makes you want to pursue both a theater undergraduate and a directing graduate degree?"

Artie looks sideways at Tina, then back at Henzie. "I like them."

"Why?" Henzie asks. "Also, I read that you are interested in business modules, like finance. Why?"

When Artie loses focus with the multiple questions, Henzie leans forward, drums his fingers on the table, then says, "Let's start with the less obvious. What is it about finance that you like?"

"I like numbers and how they make a lot of sense when arranged in sequence... or like they tell a story. Profit and loss tells a story of what the company has been doing. Not many people find the logic in numbers so I like that I can make sense of it and help them understand."

He takes a deep breath and Tina knows he's counting inside his head to calm himself down.

"I also like to make sense of the stage and people on the stage. They don't always see it because they're acting or moving props and they become very focused, so they need someone to look at everything from afar and give them that perspective. It's my biggest passion, but there's no undergraduate degree for it, so I'm doing a stage-based one first."

Tina doesn't realize she's clasping her hands together so tightly until her nails dig deep into her skin and a faint but sharp pain hits her.

"From what you said," says Henzie, slowly. "You like to make sense of things and help others make sense of it too. That's a very good thing."

When Henzie summarizes it like this, it's like a lightbulb has just switched on in Tina's head.

That's why Artie is so multi-talented compared to so many other autistic people with a single, driven interest and capability. His singular ability is to make things sensible to both himself and others, and art, music and finance somehow intertwine to make this possible.

"But do people accept your advice?" asks Henzie.

Artie stares at him for a good five seconds before saying, "Sometimes."

"I hope you don't mind me being blunt here, Mr. Abrams, and Miss Cohen-Chang," he eyes Tina, who flinches, "but because of your autism, it's not easy for you to socialize with other people. On our campus, there are many people who may say or do things to overload your senses. There are autistic people studying on campus, of course, but they have shown me that they can manage. We have a couple of special cases who need to study independently. Which one would you prefer if we were to accept you?"

Tina knows that he wants to be on his own because that's how he functions best. But Artie takes a good long while before he replies, "Study with other people."

Tina arches an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" Henzie has apparently taken notice of her expression.

"Yes," says Artie, firmly.

"It's not easy for you," says Tina, in a low voice. "You're already going to be in a new environment. It's a lot to take in."

"I'm okay," says Artie. "I _will_ be okay. In the past, I wouldn't have been. But now I'm okay."

"In the past?" Henzie muses. "What's different from now?"

"In the past..." Artie fiddles with his thumbs again. "When I was in the orphanage and then in Lima Autism Center..." he pronounces every word clearly, pauses, then continues, "everyone tells me I'm different. I feel different from everyone else. There's a way to be normal and I have to go through lessons to be normal. I have to say and do the right things so that I won't hurt people or make them angry. I have to keep quiet on certain occasions and say more during others. It's a lot to remember and it's very difficult, but no one else seems to find it a problem."

"I stopped trying after a while."

He casts a quick glance at Tina, then looks back at Henzie. "It was tiring. I didn't want to make people happy anymore. I wasn't happy anyway. I just wanted to watch _West Side Story_ and listen to the music. Some days, the show's good. Some days, a lot of it is wrong, like the movements and the articulations. It's all messy and I don't like it."

_The days when you're really upset_, Tina thinks.

"Everybody still said I had a problem, but when I didn't try, they'd let me do what I wanted."

This time, Artie's gaze fixes on Tina and doesn't leave. "Tina didn't let me. She made it easy for me. I don't know how, but it seemed a lot easier to do the things I didn't want to do when she was around. It's easier to talk when she's around. She makes it feel like I'm doing something right and that everybody is different too, so I don't have to be so scared about being different. She gives me lessons too and I think they're still stupid, but I understand now that it's not about pleasing people but to make them understand what I'm saying."

Tina looks at him with sheer pride.

"I can do it," repeats Artie. "If you give me the chance. I really want to show other autistic people that I can do normal things too. I want to be the first autistic person to direct a big, popular musical. I'm not afraid anymore and I want to try."

Henzie's expression remains undecipherable, but he scribbles something down on his paper. Then he stands up and walks around the table. Artie wheels around to face him and meets his outstretched hand instead.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Abrams," says Henzie. "We will let you know the result of your interview at the end of this week."

"My pleasure," replies Artie. "Thank you."

Henzie nods at Tina, who thanks him and helps wheel Artie out of the room. When they're out of the building, Tina squats next to Artie's chair and looks at him with a grin.

"I think that went splendidly. You really held your own and I'm seriously impressed."

Artie meets her gaze, then drops it to his lap. "Yes."

"You're not happy?"

"I am."

"Something's bothering you."

"I dreamt last night."

This is the first time Artie has mentioned his dreams. Fascinated, Tina gives him an encouraging smile. "What about?"

"You were dancing with the umbrella on stage," he says. "It was raining glitter and you were dancing and singing to _Singin' In The Rain_."

Tina grips his handrail.

"Then when you finished, everyone stood up to clap for you. I was in the audience at the back, where the director sits, and everybody in front of me was standing. They liked it, Tina, they really did."

With that, Artie reaches out to take her hand. She flinches, but doesn't withdraw.

"You looked so happy, Tina. I wish you would look as happy as you did in my dream."

Tina stands up and brushes down her dress. "I... That's a very nice dream, Artie, but it won't –"

She looks to the road and there is a cab in the distance. She breaks away from Artie and flags the cab down. Throughout helping him into the cab and sending him back to the center, she doesn't say a word more other than 'Goodbye, Artie'.

But when she's back home at night, in her bed, she dreams of him standing on the stage instead. This time, he points to her and says,

"Come up here, Tina. You were very good."

Then the audience cheers for her as she walks up the stage, now dressed in a long black evening gown that shimmers under the light. Artie takes her hand, squeezes it, then wheels backwards with his hands stretched out towards her. She turns to the front, takes a bow, and the applause is thunderous. It rings in her ears even when she wakes up, eyes wide open.

_All I do is dream of you  
The whole night through  
With the dawn, I still go on, and dream of you_

-.-.-.-.-.-

It never rains but it pours.

The first is just a harmless rehearsal, one that yielded very little changes except slight directions from Artie about spacing on stage. Tina's seated at the back, taking notes to remind Artie to look into later, including notes on some of his _own_ phrasings.

The second is that Artie needs to get his laptop repaired because it's been unresponsive. Santana is too occupied trying to coax Brittany out of an emotional fit, Emma knows nothing about technology and Sue immediately points the finger at Tina again. After accompanying Artie to the computer center (because he actually knows what he wants so she really doesn't have to do anything and Emma could have just come...), it's almost dinnertime. She decides she might as well treat him to dinner.

Both times are part of her work duty, but outside of office hours.

Both times were also dinner days with Mike.

There's no issue either time. Mike just nods and smiles and says he understands. Or rather, Tina pictures him doing so when he texts her with a 'No problem.'

Then on Friday, out of the blue, she doesn't see him at the gate as usual. Five, ten, twenty minutes go by, and Tina's worried because Mike's never late and wouldn't ignore her messages and calls. She goes back into the office, attempting to call him via somebody else's phone, when she sees him seated near her desk, idly playing with a few pieces of paper. He hasn't noticed her.

A second later, her phone vibrates. It's a text from Mike.

_"Hi Tina, so sorry, but I can't make it. I've something on. Catch up with you tonight. Love, Mike."_

Tina looks up from her phone screen to Mike still fiddling with the papers on her desk. Feeling something rise in her, she storms towards him.

Now he notices, but he's not flinching. He looks at her with an undecipherable expression.

"What's the meaning of this?" Tina demands.

"I'm ditching a dinner date, like you've been doing."

Tina stares at him incredulously. "Excuse me? It was twice, and I'm pretty sure I have valid reasons compared to you sitting in front of my desk and texting me a lie at the same time?"

"Does Artie make your reason that valid?"

"What?"

"I know what you've been doing," says Mike, evenly. "It's really weird though, you said you wanted to work with other people so that Artie won't be so emotionally attached to you, but you're still hanging around him. I don't understand. You can just leave the rehearsal stuff to Blaine, and Emma could have brought him to the computer center. You're not his superheroine, you don't have to do everything..."

She had mentioned to Mike that Artie was getting a little too used to her, but she hadn't said anything about Artie confessing to her. What was Mike talking about now? Was he actually getting jealous of Artie?

"Uh, first of all?" Tina folds her arms. "I came up with the whole musical idea so I have the right to decide when and how I want to be involved."

"Oh, great, so your own initiative makes you decide to go on a day when we have our dinner date."

"Mike! It's just _one day_! Will it kill you not to have dinner with me for less than three times a week?" Tina throws up her hands.

Mike goes rigid. "If I said yes?"

"It doesn't mean we love each other any less!" Tina is extremely frustrated now. "That's the problem with you, you're always measuring our relationship by the number of times we go out, by the number of flowers you give me, by the number of conversations we have – it's just – sometimes you need to break out of a routine to have a breath of fresh air! We are already sticking to a huge routine in this center, we have to have routines for the people here, and now you want to make our relationship a big routine too?"

"I'm only trying to make sure we're stable!" says Mike. "I want to make sure we both have equal time for our family as well as for the two of us, that we can constantly provide support for each other at intervals of the week..."

"What you're doing is making sure our ship stays at the same point in the sea!" cries Tina. "Just because we have dinner or talk about our lives doesn't mean we understand each other. For one, I don't get why you would abandon your dreams just because your parents didn't allow you to. I mean, I know that you love dance so much more than sports therapy and you're old enough to make your own decisions."

"You don't understand!" Mike's eyes flashes. "_Because_ I'm old enough, I have to honor my parents for what they've gone through to bring me up. You think it's so easy for them and my grandparents to come from China all the way to the US and sink roots here?"

"Well, have you really, truly tried pouring your heart out to them?" Tina raises her eyebrows.

"What about you?" Mike counters. "You gave up community theater too. You're also not pursuing your dreams."

Tina opens her mouth, but words don't come out.

"Instead, you're spending time trying to get an autistic boy to see hope in the very thing you gave up on." Mike chuckles mirthlessly. "Wow."

"You're treading dangerous waters here, Michael Robert Chang."

"You're the one sinking into it!That boy has physically abused you before and now he's mentally and emotionally depriving you of what you should be seeking!"

"He has learnt to control himself," says Tina, coldly. "And as a staff member of the Center, I think you should know better than to say things about him like that."

"Tina, that's the workplace. I'm talking about a third party in our relationship here," says Mike, angrily.

Tina glares at him. "Now I see that we're _really_ not understanding each other at all. In that case, this conversation isn't productive, you can check it off the list of conversations that will help stabilize a relationship."

Mike seems to realize that this argument has really gone sour and tries to say, "Tina, wait..."

But she doesn't wait.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The musical is about to commence in a week's time.

Artie has called for a major dry run mid-week so that everything is assuredly in place.

Except that it isn't, because the female lead is nowhere to be found.

"It's three o' clock!" Artie jabs at his watch. "Unprofessional! I am entitled to shout at her!"

"I have to agree," mutters Tina. She taps her feet impatiently. "That's very unlike Amanda though, she should have..."

As if on cue, Blaine's cell phone rings. His facial expression morphs as he listens, then ends on a grave note as he regards Artie and Tina. "She's got a very high fever, just got admitted to the emergency department for frothing at the mouth."

"What? No!" Artie gasps.

"Oh my God, is she okay?" Tina asks.

"Oh my God, what about our musical?" Artie clutches at his hair.

When neither Tina nor Blaine respond, Artie throws up his hands in frustration. "It's over!"

"No, it's not," says Tina immediately. "We just have to get Kate to replace her..."

"Not Kate!" Artie flashes a look of disgust. "She knows nothing! We did a rehearsal once with her and she fumbled over everything!"

"That's true," admitted Blaine, and Tina had to agree because Kate, the most suitable understudy, had a tendency to repeat lines over and over again when she fumbled and it was really jarring and confused the rest of the actors too. "We really were banking on Amanda being 100% well. I think she'll be warded for a couple of days."

"Oh, Artie." Tina places a hand on his shoulder. "We'll have to make do, we really don't have a choice."

Suddenly, Artie jerks his head up. "She doesn't know all the words. But you do."

Tina steps back, startled. "Eh?"

"You've watched all our rehearsals. You've read all the scripts. I know you know it."

Tina raises her hands slowly. "Oh no. No, no, no..."

"He's right," says Blaine, his eyes brightening. "Tina, you performing alongside the special needs actors sends a great message for equality and eliminating differences."

"No!" Tina waves her hands frantically. "I can't do it!"

"Yes, you can," says Artie.

"You don't understand!" Tina groans. "This is about you. I'm not about to ruin your directorial debut!"

"You won't," says Artie, simply. "If Kate performs, it will be ruined."

Blaine rubs his face ruefully.

Artie grabs Tina's hands, startling her. "You like performing. You've always performed very well in front of me. I'm sure you can do it."

"Now _you're_ encouraging _me_?" Tina stares at him incredulously. "But –"

"Yes, I am," replies Artie. "Do you trust me?"

Tina wants to argue and protest further, but when he asks that question point-blank, along with that firm gaze of his, she can't help sighing and mumbling, "Of course I do."

"Then it will be a fantastic musical," says Artie, decisively. "Just follow my directions during this rehearsal and it will turn out beautiful." Then suddenly, he smiles. "Because I trust you."

"Artie –" Tina is still flailing desperately.

"Stage crew on standby!" yells Artie as he wheels back into position.

"Oh my God, he's serious," whispers Tina. "Is he?"

"Only if you think he is," says Blaine. Then he grins. "Come, let's get you fitted quickly."

He pulls Tina backstage and along the way, he whispers in his best Artie impression, "_Because I trust you..._"

"Shut up!" Tina swats at him as he giggles, but she knows she's blushing.

"Did you ever imagine this?" Blaine asks as he hustles her into the dressing room. "That he would be the one to ignite your dreams again?"

When Tina only stares at him, he laughs and says, "Kurt told me you used to do community theater with him. He quit, but you stayed. Not to mention that your knowledge of musical theater is incredible, you always sing and dance with Artie..."

"I don't _always_!"

Blaine shrugs. "It's not hard to guess."

Tina picks at the nearby hairbrush.

"Tina?" Blaine says gently. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," she mumbles. "I haven't acted in years."

"_Trust me_." Blaine winks and Tina has to laugh again. "You'll make a fantastic Estella."

"Thank you..." Her whisper is lost in thin air as he shuts the door. She stares at the mirror surrounded by light bulbs and is immediately reminded of her youth theater days. There is Amanda's makeup set on the table, and she knows immediately what goes where and how much to put. There's that shiny black dress –

The one in her dreams.

Artie's right. She knows this. She knows every detail because like him, she loves this. This – the stage and its back trove of mad rushes, costume fittings, last-minute rehearsals – is where she belongs.

She takes a deep breath, then begins her transformation.

-.-.-.-.-.-

It goes by in a blur.

She's stepping onstage as Estella and offstage as Tina. Onstage, offstage.

Artie's giving directions throughout the night, but he never fails to be beside her just before she goes on. The crowd laughs and cheers at the talented but cheeky young man who plays Pip, who has a tendency to talk more than necessary, but channels that absolutely well into acting. But when she goes onstage as the icy-cold Estella, the crowd seems to be holding her breath with theirs as she mercilessly tears Pip's heart apart along with everyone else's with her hard, bitter words. She lets the misery of Artie's song reverberate in her singing as the rest of the cast chant the cruel lyrics against Estella behind, and doesn't even realize till she's backstage that there are salty streaks on her face.

When Pip and Estella put their heads together at the end of the show, the curtains fall.

A vacuum of silence.

Then suddenly, there's a thunderous roar. It's like the gushing of a waterfall that echoes so hard in your ears that you can barely hear anything.

The curtains open, and Tina finally sees it.

She finally sees the crowd on their feet, clapping vigorously with bobbing faces of sunshine and pride.

She sees the woman in her dreams with the hanky to her eyes, calling out. "Amazing! Just amazing!"

Artie wheels across the stage with the cast and people are stamping their feet and catcalling in approval.

"He's amazing!"

"Bravo!"

"Incredible!"

Artie dips his head, then raises his shining eyes to Tina beside him. Then he holds up her hand, surprising her.

"GO TINA!" She can hear Kurt shout himself hoarse from the side.

She turns back to Artie, whose hand is trembling in hers, and knows that this is all that she has dreamed about.

And it has come true.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Miss Sylvester! Miss Sylvester!" A dozen reporters have found their way into backstage and Sue yells a shrill order that involves Will, Ken and many other staff members trying to move the reporters away to the reception area. One of them catches sight of Artie coming out of a dressing room and yells, "That's the director! Hey, Mister Abrams! Mister Abrams!"

Tina watches as Artie's eyes grow round and start to dart around even as his body grows rigid. Quickly, she slips through the throngs of actors and crew members to grab hold of his wheelchair. He looks at her with a terrified expression, but she whispers, "I know, don't worry, I'm getting you out of here," and ushers him towards her dressing room and shuts the door and all the rest of the commotion out.

Artie visibly relaxes. "Thank you."

Tina smiles. "You do know that all these people are really, really thrilled by the whole performance, don't you? The crowd... this amount of people that are coming in here to congratulate you... it symbolizes how stunning your whole direction has been."

She kneels down next to him. "Artie, you're successful. Did you hear the applause just now? It was..."

He stares at her. "The applause was for you."

Tina blinks.

"You were amazing, Tina," says Artie, and he covers her hand on his handrail with his own. "I would have very little complaints, only that you were still slightly nervous, it made your delivery a little stiffer than usual."

Tina chokes out a laugh. "Trust you to still critique me at the end!"

"So you can be better next time."

Tina sobers. "Next time?"

"Next time," Artie repeats.

Warmth is coursing through her veins now. He continues, "And I will still be the director."

Tina swallows. "What are you talking about, Artie? You've so much ahead of you. You're going to direct stars in the future and have hugely successful worldwide musicals."

"But you're my star."

When Artie says this, there is no trace of cliché. There's only a matter-of-fact statement laced with a certain indifference as to how much these words can truly impact Tina, who holds her free hand to her heart.

Then she leans forward and presses her lips to his cheeks. It's cold, but her body has never felt warmer.

She pulls back just enough to catch a glimpse of his mesmerizing eyes; then on pure, sheer impulse, she leans forward again and kisses him – on the lips.

There is no pulling back this time. His breath catches on her lips and she reaches out to cup his cold cheek with her hand as their lips move soundlessly against each other. The second puff of breath brings her back to reality, but their faces remain close enough for her to watch his shining eyes search hers.

"Does that mean..." Artie whispers, "...that you like me?"

Tina has barely any time to process his words when the door opens. Both of them turn their heads to see Mike standing in the doorway.

His expression is a dead one.

Artie wheels back slightly. "Hi, Mike."

"Artie, go out for a while, please?" Tina whispers.

"No, you go out with Mike," says Artie. "I don't like the crowd outside."

"I'll like to speak with my girlfriend in private, if you don't mind," says Mike, his voice hollow.

Artie's eyes widen. "_He's_ your boyfriend?"

"The other boy whom you thought was my boyfriend was actually my friend Kurt," says Tina, with a sigh. She looks at Mike. "Are the reporters gone?"

"Sue's attending to them. You'll probably need to go out soon to meet them with Blaine too," says Mike. "But I'll really like to talk to you first."

"Oh, they're gone," says Artie. "I'll go back to my room then."

As Artie leaves, he turns back to look at Tina once more. Then he disappears out of sight.

Tina expects Mike to blow up about the scene, but he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he starts rattling off,

"If I told you that I decided to listen to you, that I applied to a dance school and I talked to my parents about it and they're still really unhappy but I'm doing it anyway because you're right, I really love dance and I can't give it up just like that..." He pauses for a breath. "Would you come with me? To Chicago?"

"You have a place there?"

"I will. They accepted me once. They will again."

"You want me to follow you to Chicago."

"Yes," says Mike. "Yes, we can start afresh there. We can put behind whatever strains we have in our relationship and go and be happy and carefree there. You can... you can apply for theater there if you want. You were stunning tonight, really. I'm sure they'll like you there. The local theaters there have a lot of programs, and you can do a part-time teaching job too."

"Mike, I don't want to go to Chicago."

He's breathing very heavily as he stares at her. "Tina, I love you. I want to honor your dreams too."

"But the theater business in Chicago isn't great," says Tina, slowly. "If... If I really wanted to pursue theater, I would go to somewhere like New York, or LA, or..."

"LA?" Mike narrows his eyes. "Artie. He's going there."

Tina makes an exasperated sound. "Mike, this isn't about him, this is about you never really considering what I want! Even if I wanted to pursue theater, it's not now. I love it, I loved tonight, it made me love theater all over again, but there's so much more I want to do, so much more that I have yet to –"

She trails off.

"You mean, there's so much more in Lima Autism Center that you haven't done yet?" Mike smirks bitterly.

"Y-yes."

"You care for all of them, there's no doubt. You've done a great job with the workshop and the musical. But all in all, the only person whom you've really cared about development has only, and always been Artie Abrams. Whatever you haven't achieved yet is watch him grow into the person you're hoping he will become."

"I don't know what you're talking about," says Tina, but her voice is cracking.

"Every single time," says Mike, his voice now shaking too. "You pushed me away because you wanted to focus on something to do with Artie. He's more than a mentee to you, Tina. I can see the way he looks at you – he's so attached just like Finn was to Rachel. Santana and I have told you what will happen. It's not going to end well if you let him do that when..."

"...when I think he's an amazing person who cares so much for the people around him? When I think that I'm the one who gives him strength to be this new, wonderful and strong young man, and in return, he gives me hope about my abilities and encourages me all this while?"

There's a long, cold silence.

"In that case," says Mike, his voice now completely raw. "If you're more concerned about building Artie's future than our future together, then I think you should go ahead. If that's what you want. I hope you appreciate this last bit of encouragement."

This time, it's he who doesn't wait.

Tina tries to hold it all together as she meets the reporters in the reception area with Blaine and Sue and answers all kinds of questions about the conception of the idea, the process and execution, and more about Artie, whom Tina politely tells the reporters is really too exhausted to conduct an interview. They arrange another date for an interview with him, and Tina moves on to meet her parents, Kurt and Mercedes at the theater entrance. She is appropriately showered with bouquets, hugs and kisses. Kurt goes on to hug Blaine, but it's Mercedes who notices first.

"Tina?" she says gently, taking the girl to one side. "Have you been crying?"

Tina winces. "Is it obvious?"

"No, the whites of your eyes are good," says Mercedes. "But I know my homegirl always shifts from foot to foot when she's upset. And she cries when she's upset. Two and two ain't hard to make out that four, lady. Spill the mashed beans, what's choking you up inside?"

Tina hangs her head.

When she looks up, all she can whisper is, "I don't know."


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

* * *

_"Dear Mr. Arthur Abrams,_

_Congratulations! You have been accepted to the University of California-Los Angeles School of Theater, Film and Television. You will be embarking on the **Bachelor of Arts Degree in Theater** with a**specialization in design/production**, a four-year degree program. Attached is an information package with the curriculum requirements, housing information, school fees table,..."_

Tina scans through Artie's acceptance letter, the smile on her face growing wider and wider. When she's done, she squeals and throws her arms around Artie.

"Oh, Artie, I'm so glad for you!"

He looks up at her. "Thanks."

Tina arches an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

He sighs loudly, then wheels to the corner of Room No. 3. "I want to watch _Singin' In The Rain_. We haven't watched it in a while."

_We__ haven't watched it in a while._ Tina twists her lips. "Tell me, Artie. What're you upset or afraid about?"

Artie looks at her, his spectacles drooping. "All freshmen have to do ballet."

Tina does a double-take. "Huh?"

"It's stated there. And Tai-Chi. Those are stupid. I just want to learn about stage and directing."

"Artie," says Tina, scanning through the documents once again. "They're just _encouraged_ modules, not compulsory ones. Besides, it helps you to learn more when you do other things, remember? Like finance?"

"Then I'll do finance."

"We can work out a specialized program for you, I'm sure. But you must promise me to be more open-minded. There are some things that you might love but because you don't try, you'll never know."

Artie makes a grumbling noise and Tina feels a wave of affection hit her once again. "Aw, come on."

There's a short silence before Artie says softly,

"You're not my mentor anymore anyway. It's okay, I'll manage."

Tina rolls her eyes. "I'm still your friend, right? I _had_ to come when Sue announced to everyone that you've been accepted."

"It's great," Artie mumbles.

"Something else is wrong."

"No."

"Artie."

"It's not wrong," he insists. "It's right. I am an independent young man."

Tina's slightly confused by him repeating that statement again.

"A director must be confident," he continues, "and ready to take on challenges. It's not wrong, it's right."

It takes a short while more before Tina realizes what he's trying to say. "You're scared of being lonely." When he only lowers his head further, she knows she's right. "Artie, you'll make lots of friends there."

"Nobody wants to make friends with me," he says, simply. "I'm in a chair and I'm autistic. I can't dance and run and play with them."

He's in defensive mode all over again, but Tina's determined to make this regression last for less than ten seconds.

"We are _not _going through this again. This is the last time."

She takes a deep breath. "You're in a chair, but it's just a part of you, like an extra limb, it makes you maneuver on slopes better than people on two feet. You're autistic, but that's also a part of you and that makes you special, because if you weren't, you wouldn't have directed a successful musical the way you did. You can't dance on two feet, but you can dance on four wheels. You can't run but you can move faster than everyone else. And you most certainly can play, it's just that you don't want to."

Artie blinks.

"Also, you sing. With a guitar. That's a good way to get friends," says Tina, with a wink. "Everyone loves a good serenade."

"You always make me feel better."

"You won't be alone, Artie," says Tina. She's aching to hug him, but she holds herself back. "I'm sure of it."

Artie doesn't reply; he just looks at his lap.

She's not even sure why she's so certain. But somehow, she is.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"I heard he's going away."

Tina is surprised to see Quinn Fabray standing by Room No. 3 once again. Artie is inside, watching _Singin' In The Rain_ with no clipboard in hand.

"Is that what you call progress?" Quinn smirks as she eyes the screen. "Another musical?"

Tina bristles. "Why don't you go talk to him? I'm not saying goodbye for you."

"You might want to hang around. I'm not responsible if he breaks down a wall."

Tina does wait, just in case Artie gets upset. She gets another psychologist to attend to Jacob while she waits in the next room. Surprisingly, Quinn stays inside the room for quite a long while. In fact, it's almost two whole hours before she finally emerges from the room.

Tina looks at her questioningly because her eyes are red-rimmed. "So... is that what _you_ would call progress?"

Quinn chokes out a laugh. "What did you do? A magical elixir of optimism?"

Tina can't help matching her smile. "Maybe."

"He's so..." Quinn is almost in wonder. "He's so sensible now. He's no longer obsessed – he listens. He tries to make sense of things instead of criticizing them from the beginning. It's... it's so unlike him."

"I hope that's a good thing."

"He's going to study theater?"

"Yes, though his main goal is directing. That would be a graduate degree."

"He'll be rather old by the time he's done."

"I don't think there's any issue with age in the arts," says Tina, chuckling.

"Right, I guess the older you get, the more likely people will listen to you if you're a director..."

Tina giggles. "Trust me, if you have a way like Artie, people would listen to him even if he was a five-year-old. I think he'd be very convincing that way."

Quinn stops laughing and stares at her. "You. You are the elixir. He keeps talking about you."

Tina's smile weakens. "You believed in him too."

"No, but I gave up," says Quinn, her voice trembling. "I gave up on him. I thought I couldn't do anymore."

Tina meets her gaze and at that moment, she is overcome with an indescribable emotion.

"Whatever it is," says Quinn, sincerely. "Thank you. Thank you for making him the man he deserves to be."

Tina looks back at Artie in the room. He's watching Gene Kelly dance with the umbrella once again, singing,

_I'm singin' in the rain  
Just singin' in the rain  
What a glorious feelin', I'm happy again..._

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Tina, we need to talk."

"We are talking."

"Oh, nice, somebody famous is ditching her humble desk-side friend, who also happens to be hot and handsomely beautiful and..."

"You picked the wrong adjective, Santana, 'h' doesn't give you much room for flair. It only ends up with horrible, hilariously bad, hormonal, hellish, heckling..."

"It is quite the _holistic_ letter, isn't it?" Santana glares at Tina, who grins at her.

"So, what's up, hobo?"

"Bitch," says Santana, simply. "I was going to give well-meaning advice, but your snobby nose looks down upon my absolutely astonishing and amazing alliterative skills that I shall just keep them for myself."

"If it's about Artie, you can save it. I'm just trying to help with the process," says Tina, sorting through her files. "Sue's selected a good accommodation for him, he's approved it, he's settling his course stuff. He'll be good and ready to go."

"Aren't you excited?" Santana smirks. "He's going to achieve big things."

"I don't like that look on your face."

"It's the look of 'Tell-me-the-truth-or-I'll-skin-you-in-my-scalding-and-spicy-hot-Spanish-curry.' And before you doubt me, yes, I can cook."

Tina shrugs. "It's not just me worrying. Sue worries too. What if Artie gets into the wrong company there while he's all alone? He rarely gets out of here. I just – I mean, I know he's been doing good, but –"

"The musical showed how much he has improved," says Blaine, coming by.

"Yeah, with us around. If we hadn't been there, do you think –"

"Cohen-Chang? Don't make this about Artie," says Santana, now serious. "We know you and Changster are all but a done deal."

Tina leans back in her chair. "It wasn't supposed to end that way."

"But it did, because I told you, the bee in your boobs has stung you real good. What is it that _you_ want, hun?"

"You're right," says Tina, suddenly not caring about being evasive anymore. "I like Artie. I feel really comfortable with him. I don't know if this is attraction or care or whatever, but I've always wanted to be there for him. He's always been there for me, sticking up for me, opening up my heart to my passion once again... I don't know how to explain this, but –" She runs her hand through her hair. "Damn it, I'm hurting too many people."

"You're damn right too," says Santana.

"Tina?" Blaine leans over her desk. "What did your parents say?"

"Your parents are in this too?" Santana demands.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tina remembers – it was the night of the musical.

She and Mercedes spent the wee hours after that in her bedroom as she poured out the unhappiness of her and Mike's relationship and how everything never seemed to fit. The thing was that it all fit nicely with Artie, but it was just impossible. She couldn't have fallen in love with Artie. It was all an illusion, all part of the whole emotional attachment trap that she kept reminding herself to stay away from and that she kept tumbling into it somehow. Mercedes had listened very, very carefully, said very, very little except to hug Tina, and had stayed over.

Early the next morning, Mercedes had already left, but she left behind a note telling Tina to check her email after eleven o'clock. When Tina opened her email, she found dozens of weblinks from Mercedes on the subject of 'Relationships with Autistic People'. Slack-jawed, she browsed through the various weblinks, tears filling up her eyes with every scroll and click.

Her mother found her sobbing in the middle of the bedroom and had gathered her in her arms. After what seemed like a long, long time, Tina sobered, only to find that her mother had already seen the links on her computer.

"Honey," said her mother, gently. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

-.-.-.-.-.-

"And you told them?" Santana gasps. "What did they say?"

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Tina, you're feeling sorry for the boy. It's normal."

"Dad?" Tina says in a small voice as she looks at her parents seated before her in the living room. "It's not so simple."

"He makes you feel good, doesn't he?" Her mother looks at her intently.

Tina draws in a deep breath.

"That's not part of the criteria," says her dad, annoyed. Then hesitantly, he asks, "Is it?"

"I started out helping him. Training him. Guiding him," says Tina. "But since a long time ago, I've seen past his condition. He's no longer the autistic person I'm supposed to help. Yes, I worry about him because of his autism, I care for him because he's socially awkward and tends to get into situations because of that. But I care about his future because he deserves it with the sheer amount of talent he has. I care about his health because it pains me to see him sick and upset. I care about what he does because it makes me so happy to see him smile and enjoy himself."

"But what can he do for you, Tina?" her father asks, his voice pained. "Are you sure he even reciprocates whatever feelings you think you may have?"

Tina's lips trembles as she says, "So much. He does so much for me, Daddy, you have no idea."

"And you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"You have no idea..."

"...what I'm getting myself into," says Tina, with a heavy sigh. "Kurt, come up with something more original."

Kurt clicks his tongue exasperatedly over the phone. "No, I was going to say you have no idea what a horrible friend you are."

"Wait, what?"

"Tina, I'm hurt. I get to know all of the details through Mercedes, through Blaine, but nothing from you. What is this? Am I so hard-hearted that you would pass over my approval stamp?"

"I might say that," mutters Tina. "You aren't exactly sunshine and rainbows about him."

"No, I'm not. But that doesn't mean I can't be logical and appropriately emotional about this issue."

"So what do you think?"

There is a long pause as Tina picks at her bedsheet.

"Go with what makes you happy, Tina," says Kurt, deeply. "You deserve to be happy. So go get that happiness."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"And this future you speak of," her father continues. "Is it really what you want? Or is this another thing whereby you're trying it out for a while and saying, no, it all lies somewhere else?"

"Life isn't a straight road," is all Tina manages to say.

Her father looks at her thoughtfully.

"You know what?" Tina's mother holds her husband's hand and looks straight at a desperate Tina. "I think our daughter does know what she's getting herself into."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Sue announces that she's going to launch a new training program for special needs educators and researchers in the county. Emma will be spearheading a new program to overhaul the current logistical system after Tina's relentless complaints that it was inefficient in really tracking the progress of the individuals. Will and Holly are coming up with a project that involves producing illustrated audiobooks by the talented writers and artists of the Center. Jacob will be the first author because he has already finished conceptualizing his book.

Sugar has been accepted by Kurt's company to undergo training, after which, if she is deemed good enough, she may even open her own fashion line.

Finn has expanded his services to the whole of the Midwest region and Ken is helping him to source for a proper store outside the Center.

New individuals are entering the Center next month, some are the kids from the children's section. One of them has been earmarked by Blaine to head the new musical plans for next year because he's great with set movements and plans.

"It's gonna take a while before we find anyone like Artie though," says Blaine, to Tina one day.

Tina smiles. "There's no one like him."

-.-.-.-.-.-

She looks around Room No. 3. The television set. The stack of tapes in the corner, with the worn-out _West Side Story_ sticking out. Then _Singin' In The Rain_ right at the end. The table, now cleared of all the files and papers that used to be on it.

This would be a new room to someone else. Someone else who would cling onto the four walls and have to be slowly pried away to emerge from his or her chrysalis.

It's Artie's turn to leave his cocoon, and the sun would not melt his wings.

-.-.-.-.-.-

She sees Mike coaching a couple of kids in the field. She's been asked whether she wants to go to the kids' section, a zone she's probably more comfortable in, but she rejected it. Watching Mike patiently guide them through the rules of softball is rather calming, but then he notices her. She wants to walk away, but he catches up with her first.

"Have you..." Mike looks at her tentatively. "Have you changed your mind?"

She sees the hope in his eyes once again and whispers,

"Can I hug you?"

-.-.-.-.-.-

It's the last day.

The last day for Artie Abrams to stay in the Lima Autism Center.

Tina has brought him out on occasion to the store to get some extra stuff for packing, to the park for some fresh air (and even though some people make comments, he doesn't act up this time), to the neighborhood to see pretty houses. But this time, he's going out of the center, out into the open... for good.

Artie's vehemently stuffing his stationery into his luggage when Tina comes by. She can't help smiling as he fishes out something at the bottom of the luggage – a small cushion of sorts that was a souvenir from one of the Center's open house days – and tosses it aside, along with a couple of shirts. Then he continues to shove the bag of pens into the side.

"Are you sure you're not wearing those anymore?" asks Tina.

Artie looks up, a brilliant smile plastered on his face. "Hi, Tina." Then he sobers. "Yes. I don't want them."

"But they're your favorite blue checkered shirts."

"I don't like blue anymore."

"Oh, really? What's your new favorite color?"

"I don't have a favorite. I just want to look like a new man."

Tina grins. Artie still has his suspenders and big shoes on and honestly looks no different, but she knows better.

"Santana and Blaine want to say goodbye, but they have a meeting to attend so they can't come."

"Goodbye to them," says Artie, seriously, as he tries to shut his luggage.

Tina sits down on the side of the bed to watch him, and eventually he does shut it, but not without a good deal of effort.

"It's heavy," he grumbles.

"You're moving across the country, Artie, it's not a small vacation."

He looks at her. "I will miss you, Tina."

Tina thinks of how Artie clung onto Rachel even though they were never close and wonders what he would say when he meets his professors in UCLA.

"I know," she says.

"It's heavy," he says. "Again."

"Artie, of course it's heavy."

"Heavy here." He points to his chest. "That's not a crush, is it?"

Tina reaches out for his shoulder and rubs it. Then she brings her hand closer to his chest and rubs it too. "Well, young man," she says half-mockingly. "It looks like you have a case of the heartache."

"Is that serious?"

Tina laughs softly. "You'll be fine, Artie."

Her smile fades when he turns away from her.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"It wasn't enough for you."

"It was more than I deserved."

"I don't understand."

"No, I don't suppose."

"Do you... do you love him?"

"I don't know."

"You should stop saying that."

"That's the thing. I _really_ don't know a lot of things. But I do know what I want to do now and what it entails in the near future. The rest... I'll just let nature take its course."

"You know, the reason why I said you should stop saying that is because even though you're always not really sure of articulating your feelings, in the end, you're always acting on it."

"That sums my life up pretty well."

"Can I have another hug again?"

"Don't be greedy."

"That's your parting shot, Tina Cohen-Chang?"

"Oh, Mike. Come here."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"I promise I will do well," Artie says quietly. "I promise I will be successful like I was for the musical."

He looks up at the wall. "And I promise I will earn enough to pay for your air ticket to fly and watch my first musical."

"That won't be necessary."

Artie wheels around, hurt. "You don't want to come watch me be successful?"

Tina fishes out an air ticket and points to her name on it. "I've got my own, so no thank you."

Artie's eyes scan through, then he looks confusedly at Tina.

Tina points at the flight date of the ticket.

His eyes widen.

"No!" he cries, alarmed. "Why are you going too? A holiday? For work? To see your friends?"

"I'm going to _stay_ there," says Tina. "I've rented an apartment unit with Santana's help, not too far from the university. I'm not going to ask you to stay with me because it's good for you to interact with other college kids. But at least if you have any issues, you can call me and –"

"Tina, you live _here_," says Artie, emphatically. He's looking like that petulant child one year ago and Tina can't help grinning.

"I'm going to pursue my dreams too," and Tina places her hand gently on top of his, "because after that performance, I know that the stage is where I really want to be, and LA's the best place to work out something."

"It's not. LA is for acting on television. New York is for the stage."

"True," says Tina. "But my old friends at the community theater have linked me up to someone in LA who's very familiar with the theater circle there. They sent him a video of my acting in _Estella_ and he's expressed great interest. I figure if I start somewhere with somebody guiding me, it's going to be much better than wandering around aimlessly in New York."

"It's far," Artie protests, "You won't see your parents and your boyfriend and your friends for very long..."

"I broke up," says Tina.

"Oh." Artie blinks. "Why –"

Tina wasn't about to discuss that with him there and then. "Also, there's Skype. Viber. Whatsapp. All the technological shenanigans."

"You're too old to try that out, especially by the time you get to New York," says Artie, rather ungraciously. Then his lips quirk up a little. "You could play mommies to little boys and girls instead."

"Ha." Tina sticks out her tongue. "I'm glad you think I have such maternal instincts."

"You like working here," says Artie.

"Well, I like caring for people and seeing them grow and develop, but there's still something missing, somehow... honestly, Artie, who was the one encouraging me to go and find a better life?"

"Maybe," muses Artie. "Maybe one day you can care for people and see them grow and develop... on stage."

Tina stares at him. "Artie... that's... exactly what I want to do."

"Does that mean you're staying?"

"No, that's why I need to _go_. To fulfill my dream first, and _then_ help to develop others. That would be really, really ideal."

"Are you sure?" Artie asks warily. "Are you really going?"

"Yes. Why, you don't want me to go?" Tina looks at him in slight despair. After all, he had just spent the last few minutes trying to talk her out of it.

It's hard trying to read his face, and at this moment, even more so than ever.

Santana... Mike... Kurt... her dad... mom... their words swirling in her head. _All an illusion._

Then Blaine. _So you're convincing yourself he isn't normal when you don't think that way._

Sue. _There are other people here who need you to help them._

Her mom once more. _I think she knows._

Then all of a sudden, Artie bursts into a brilliant smile, and with that, her heart bursts into happiness too. He leans forward and pulls her into the warm hug that she loves so much. "I'm so happy, Tina. I'm not going to be alone. I have you."

"I did promise," she says, her laughter half-choked. "I did say you wouldn't be alone."

_Life was a song,  
You came along  
I'd laid awake the whole night through  
If I ever dared to think you'd care  
This is what I'd say to you_

Tina breathes in his scent as she rubs his back, then pulls back slightly. Her hands have landed on his lap, but he doesn't flinch. That in itself thrills her. Instead, he leans forward again and presses a light kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"I want to be there, not just _for_ you, but _with_ you," says Tina, earnestly. "You're no longer the center participant whom I needed to help. You've become a friend, a person I truly care about and I want to be there to see you succeed. And I want you to see me succeed too. We're going in this together and work hard to achieve what we've always dreamed of."

_You were meant for me  
And I was meant for you  
Nature patterned you  
And when she was done  
You were all the sweet things  
Rolled up in one_

"So, ready to go?" Tina looks at Artie with deep affection.

Artie reaches out and takes her hand in his gloved one, the smile on his face bright and brilliant. "Ready."

_You're like a plaintive melody  
That never lets me free  
But I'm content  
The angels must have sent you  
And they meant you just for me._

**FINE.**

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading this fic! This fic represents a lot of first times for me: first time writing an Artina fic, an AU fic, using American English spelling and present tense. Not to mention that I was away for long periods of time so I was rushing this out. Apologies if it didn't meet your expectations but I know I had a good time writing this. It's not an accurate representation of autism centres, but my main focus was on characterisation (yes, I spell with the 's') and hope you managed to take that away from the fic!

If you have viewed this fic's illustrations on my LJ, please also let the artist n_nanini (LJ) or goldenslumbr (tumblr) know what you think of her art (I think it's gorgeous, haha).

As for me, feel free to let me know what you think of my work! (:


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